"Martha! Go open the door! We have a guest!" the Dean's shout came from downstairs.
Tom slowly stood up from the floor, patting the dust off his knees. He threw the rag into the bucket, splashing a bit of dirty water.
And the system voice in his head sounded at just the right time.
[Key character detected nearby.]
[Main Quest Issued: First Impression.]
[Quest Description: Gain Albus Dumbledore's trust without revealing your true identity.]
[Quest Reward: Unlock the Newbie Gift Pack.]
[Consequence of Failure: Death, obviously.]
"I don't need you to remind me of that."
Tom walked to the window at the end of the corridor, using the reflection in the glass to tidy up his messy long hair and that dusty gray dress.
He looked at the pale, frail little girl with big innocent eyes reflected in the glass, slowly adjusting his facial expression.
The eyes should be clear, but with a hint of wariness.
The corners of the mouth should be tightly pursed, showing stubbornness.
The shoulders should be slightly hunched inward, showing a lack of security.
Dumbledore was not easy to fool, so he had to make himself look pitiful enough, but without causing suspicion through overacting.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
A corner of a plum-colored velvet suit appeared first at the corner of the stairs, forming a sharp and jarring contrast with the dark, dilapidated walls around it.
Then, the tall figure stepped up.
It was an old man who looked very energetic, with long silver hair and a beard that reached his waist. Behind half-moon spectacles, those bright blue eyes sparkled with a sharp light that seemed capable of seeing through one's heart.
When those blue eyes looked through the lenses and fell upon the cold-faced little girl at the end of the corridor who was hugging her arms, the old man's pace faltered slightly.
Their eyes met.
Crossing the boundary between life and death, the Dark Lord and the White Wizard completed their first reunion of this lifetime in this narrow, filthy corridor.
A flash of obvious surprise crossed Dumbledore's eyes, which then turned into a complex, searching look.
He seemed to sense a feeling of familiarity from this girl.
"Hello."
Dumbledore spoke with a smile, his voice as gentle as when he had spoken to the little boy sitting by the bed many years ago.
This surname always made Dumbledore think of many things.
"I believe you are Miss Tamara Riddle?"
Tom felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest, not just from nervousness, but from that bone-deep hatred.
But he forced himself to look down, avoiding those eyes that seemed to be performing Legilimency.
"I am."
The girl's voice was crisp, yet carried a hint of imperceptible trembling.
She raised her head, her obsidian-like eyes showing just the right amount of confusion and defensiveness, and even a bit of panic at having her name called by a stranger.
"Are you a doctor? Or a policeman? I... I didn't do anything bad today."
"Oh, no, of course not." Dumbledore waved his hand gently, stepping forward, though his gaze never left Tom's eyes.
"I am a Professor at Hogwarts. I thought we might find a quiet place to talk? Like your room."
Tom's fingers tightened on the hem of his skirt.
Here it comes.
That damn room interrogation segment.
Back then, Dumbledore had used fire to burn his wardrobe there, designing a meticulous show of strength; it was one of the few moments of humiliation in his life.
"If you insist," Tom said in a reluctant tone, lowering his head, and then turned to push open the mottled wooden door behind him.
Dumbledore walked in, his plum-colored velvet robes making the small space feel even more crowded.
He looked around, his gaze scanning the tidy bed, the empty desk, and finally resting on the wardrobe in the corner.
Tom's heart rose to his throat.
"You seem like a tidy child," Dumbledore said softly, his tone unreadable. "It is... very clean here."
"I don't like things being messy," Tom answered dryly. He sat on the edge of the bed with his hands placed neatly on his knees, trying his best to look like a good child.
Dumbledore took a silver lighter-like object out of his pocket and toyed with it for a moment, then pulled out a bag of sweets as if by magic.
"Would you like a Sherbet Lemon?"
"No." Tom refused subconsciously; it was an instinctive resistance to unknown food. Heaven knew if there was Veritaserum inside.
"This is a Muggle candy, I like it very much." Dumbledore unwrapped one for himself and popped it into his mouth, then pulled over the only chair and sat down.
"Tamara, do you know why I'm here?"
"Because I'm different from others."
Tom raised his head and spoke slowly, emphasizing every word.
"I can make things move, or make hair grow long and curly."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression gentle.
"Yes, you have magic. You are a Witch, Tamara."
Even having heard it once before, hearing these words again still caused an indescribable surge of emotion in Tom's heart.
A Witch.
Even if he had become like this, even if he had lost his power, he still belonged to that great world, not this filthy Muggle orphanage.
"Hogwarts is a school specifically for teaching people like you how to use magic." Dumbledore held out the heavy parchment envelope.
Tom took it, his fingers lightly tracing the crest.
"So..." Dumbledore's gaze suddenly became sharp as he leaned forward slightly.
"Since you can do those things, Tamara, I want to ask... have you ever used these abilities to hurt others?"
This was a trap.
Tom knew very well that this was where he had tripped up back then, boastfully showing off how he had hung a rabbit.
He glanced at the wardrobe.
That wardrobe was empty now; besides a few old clothes, there was nothing—no stolen mouth organs, no snatched silver thimbles, and no trophies from victims.
Because he had been awake for less than an hour, he hadn't had time to collect any trophies at all.
"Hurt others?"
Tom's eyes widened, putting on an expression of being wronged.
"I..." The girl's voice lowered, and she twisted her fingers, her eyes turning slightly red.
"Maybe I have, sir. Last time Billy stole my bread, I just... I just glared at him, and he fell down."
"But I didn't mean to actually hurt him, I just didn't want to go hungry."