Melvin sat by the fire, watching the hound devour its meal with gusto, lost in thought.
"Slurp, slurp…"
"Chomp, chomp…"
Fang had its head buried in a bowl, eagerly lapping up the meaty broth Melvin had whipped up from ingredients in the wooden hut.
He'd taken a strip of smoked meat from the wall, shredded it, and grabbed a few rock-hard rock cakes from the cupboard. Using a Severing Charm to break them into bits, he tossed them into a pot with water and boiled it all together. The result: a savory, steaming soup.
Meat, salt, carbs—and piping hot.
"Woof…"
Fang paused to glance at Melvin, its pink tongue licking around its mouth before nuzzling his leg. With a contented nudge, it dove back into the meal.
"Eat up before it gets cold," Melvin said, ruffling the dog's head. Fang leaned into the touch, eyes squinting happily.
"Slurp, slurp…"
Fang polished off the small pot of meat-and-cake soup, licking the bowl clean. Melvin considered refilling it—there was still some left—but Fang was done. It flopped onto the floor, belly up, whimpering contentedly.
Guess that's tomorrow's ration, then.
Melvin cast a quick Cleaning Charm to clear the smell, checked the hut's ventilation, and added a couple of logs to the fire. Then, he leisurely stood to leave.
Seeing him go, Fang ignored its full belly and scrambled up, barking and trotting ahead to lead him out of the Forbidden Forest before returning to the hut.
The round trip took a few hours, and by the time Melvin reached the castle, it was past curfew.
He looked up, spotting faint light spilling from a few windows: McGonagall's office, the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, the abandoned classroom near the second-floor library, the Gryffindor common room, and, faintly, a shadow moving in the Headmaster's office…
Ten minutes later, he was in the Headmaster's office.
A steaming mug of hot cocoa, sweetened with four sugar cubes, sat on the desk. Fawkes, perched nearby, pecked at the air. Dumbledore sat behind the desk, while portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, silently listening as the young professor recounted his evening.
Hogwarts, nearly a thousand years old, had seen its share of dark wizards—some even trained within its walls. Every few years, headmasters dealt with dark wizard incidents. Dumbledore's record was unmatched: before becoming headmaster, he'd defeated Grindelwald, leader of the wizarding supremacists, and a decade ago, he'd faced the Dark Lord, saving the wizarding world twice, rivaling the feats of the four founders.
The portraits weren't particularly interested in a dark wizard popping up in Hogsmeade, but seeing Dumbledore listen so intently, they perked up, hanging on Melvin's every word.
Melvin finished his story, the scent of cocoa lingering in the air.
Phineas Black started to speak but was hushed by Headmaster Moore. Dumbledore, deep in thought, caused the portraits to tense up. He looked at Melvin and asked, "That rope's magic felt different. How so?"
"Tricky. Malevolent. Almost as vile as an Unforgivable Curse."
"Oh…" the portraits gasped softly.
Dumbledore's eyes grew sharp, studying the young professor. He'd made a decision. "I think I know who it was."
Melvin feigned confusion. "Who?"
"An old friend. Remember the dark wizard I mentioned before?"
Dumbledore paused, his tone tinged with regret. "It's a long story, stretching back 54 years. I was the Transfiguration professor then, like Minerva is now. Part of my job was visiting Muggle-born students before term to guide them to Hogwarts.
"One student stood out. He had no family, living in Wool's Orphanage in London. His name was Tom Riddle…"
Melvin listened quietly, piecing together the full truth from Dumbledore's account and his own prior knowledge.
In the autumn of 1938, Dumbledore met Riddle for the first time. Expecting a pitiable orphan, he found a boy who used his magical talent to steal, extort, and bully other children. Neither left a good impression on the other.
At Hogwarts, Riddle's behavior only heightened Dumbledore's suspicions. After the Chamber of Secrets incident implicated Hagrid, Dumbledore kept a close eye on him.
To counter this scrutiny, Riddle played the model student: top grades, charming, a prefect, and later Head Boy, his name etched in the trophy room. Hogwarts enjoyed a few peaceful years.
But outside school, he was a different person.
Riddle uncovered his origins, learning his father was a mundane Muggle from Little Hangleton, while his prized Slytherin lineage came from his mother, Merope Gaunt.
The Gaunts, direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, practiced inbreeding to preserve their bloodline. By the time Riddle tracked down their dilapidated home, only one Gaunt remained: his volatile, half-mad uncle, Morfin.
From Morfin, Riddle learned the truth about his birth. The Gaunt family, down to three—father Marvolo, son Morfin, and daughter Merope—had abused Merope for her weak magic. Trapped in a repressive household, Merope fell for the Muggle Tom Riddle Sr.
Morfin attacked Riddle Sr. with magic, drawing the attention of Ministry official Bob Ogden. A confrontation led to Marvolo and Morfin's arrest.
Freed from their oppression, Merope's magic flourished. She used a love potion to ensnare Riddle Sr., and they lived together briefly. Pregnant, she either slipped up or, hoping years together had sparked genuine love, stopped using the potion.
Riddle Sr., horrified, left immediately.
Devastated, Merope shut herself off from the world. Pregnant and alone, she survived by pawning Gaunt heirlooms, including Slytherin's locket. In late 1926, she gave birth to Voldemort at Wool's Orphanage and died that night, too weak to go on and unwilling to use magic to survive.
The orphanage named the child Tom Riddle, per her wishes.
Sixteen years later, Riddle confronted Morfin, who scorned Merope's actions and the Muggle blood in his nephew.
"…Riddle despised his Muggle blood and the father who abandoned his family. He killed the Riddle family and framed his uncle, the last Gaunt."
Melvin listened silently.
Dumbledore didn't know that Voldemort had used the murders to create a Horcrux—the Gaunt family ring.
"After graduating, Riddle went quiet for a long time. He applied to teach at Hogwarts twice. I convinced Headmaster Dippet to reject him the first time, and as headmaster, I turned him down the second…"
After leaving Hogwarts, Riddle adopted the name Voldemort, rallying pure-blood supporters from his school days to form the Death Eaters. Dumbledore investigated his past but found little.
Around the First Wizarding War, Potions professor Slughorn retired abruptly. When Dumbledore questioned him about Riddle, Slughorn was evasive, his memories vague.
After Voldemort's fall, Dumbledore gathered clues, including Ogden's and Hokey the house-elf's memories.
He'd long suspected Voldemort wasn't truly gone. Quirrell's return from Albania confirmed it. When Melvin uncovered Ravenclaw's diadem, it revealed something unprecedented: a memory that acted and thought on its own, even trying to siphon his magic…
It wasn't just a memory. It was a piece of soul.
Dumbledore was certain Slughorn had hidden something about his memories.
Outside, the snow had stopped, but the howling wind persisted.
"…I have every reason to believe the dark wizard who attacked Hagrid tonight was Professor Quirrell, and that malevolent magic came from my old friend, Voldemort."
Dumbledore paused after saying the name. The wind outside seemed to freeze for a moment before growing louder.
Melvin pieced together the full story in his mind, then asked softly, "Why tell me something so secretive, Headmaster?"
"Hmm… many reasons." Dumbledore sipped his cocoa, listing them. "You studied at Ilvermorny, far from the chaos of that time. No one whispered his horrors in your ear, so you can say his name without hesitation—something even Minerva struggles with."
Melvin shook his head. "Professor McGonagall is Gryffindor's Head of House. She wouldn't fear any dark wizard, not even the Dark Lord."
"I know…"
Dumbledore continued, "Many wizards avoid his name not out of fear but habit. Voldemort enchanted his name to trigger a reaction when spoken. That magic lost its bite after his fall, but the name still carries the weight of bloody tragedies. Mentioning it stirs memories of the lost."
"Plenty of foreign wizards say Voldemort's name. That's not why you're sharing this," Melvin said.
"If I didn't tell you, wouldn't you figure it out?" Dumbledore met his eyes.
Facing those clear blue eyes, Melvin instinctively braced to use Occlumency, but there was no magical probe—just a gentle gaze.
Dumbledore looked away, sipping his cocoa. "As a new Muggle Studies professor, you barely spoke to your colleagues, yet within two weeks of term, you seemed to see through Quirrell's plans. You used your so-called Muggle psychology to spook him into avoiding you."
"It's just psychological analysis," Melvin said.
"Can psychological analysis locate Ravenclaw's diadem?" Dumbledore asked with a knowing smile.
"Er…"
Melvin dodged his gaze, sipping the overly sweet cocoa.
In the Room of Requirement, he'd impulsively revealed the diadem to gain Dumbledore's trust. Looking back, it was hasty. He should've waited a few days, claiming he'd stumbled upon it—that would've been more believable.
Dumbledore respected the secrets of those he trusted and didn't press. "Melvin, you might wonder why, knowing Quirrell's identity and his goal—the Philosopher's Stone—I haven't arrested him."
Not wondering at all.
Melvin silently disagreed but ventured a guess. "Shortage of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors?"
"That's a big reason," Dumbledore chuckled. "But there's a more important one, and I think you've guessed it."
Melvin nodded. "Harry Potter."
"Yes, Harry Potter…"
Dumbledore's smile faded, his eyes tinged with sorrow. "Harry's parents, James and Lily, were close at school and married soon after graduating, right in the thick of that turbulent time. They hid, had a child, and stayed hopeful. I still remember them—such an optimistic young couple. When we met to share news, hearing of tragedies or losses, they'd break the silence to keep us moving forward.
"Life was hard, but we managed.
"Then, in 1981, when Harry was one, their hiding place was betrayed. Voldemort found them and killed them.
"Lily's final act was a blessing on Harry—an ancient, powerful magic. It deflected the Killing Curse aimed at him, destroying Voldemort's body.
"Since then, Harry and Voldemort's fates have been intertwined.
"For reasons I can't yet share, I'm certain Voldemort will return. When he does, he'll come for Harry. Harry has little time and must learn about his enemy, gaining experience as quickly as possible."
"…"