"What about the United States?" Harry asked.
"Hahahaha..." Vivi laughed, pinching Harry's cheek, "You're so cute."
Alright then...
Since the United States was courting disaster themselves, Harry also felt there was no need to save them.
"By the way," Dumbledore suddenly said, "since you were able to remove the curse from Miss Salu, can you also remove the curse on Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"
"Sure can." Harry shrugged, "But I'm more curious, why did Riddle curse this position, was it just because you rejected his job application?"
"It's a bit complicated."
Dumbledore sighed and said to Harry, "If you want to know, I can give you the memory to see for yourself."
"No need."
Harry walked to the cup containing Voldemort's soul ball, violently pulled out a silver thread from the ball with his magic wand, and placed it in the Meditation Basin.
"...Alright." Dumbledore smacked his lips, unsure if this was right or wrong.
Then, Harry moved forward and stuck his face into the Meditation Basin.
Meanwhile, syncing with him were Cassandra and Vivi, both equally curious about this matter.
What exactly drove Voldemort to curse this position?
Harry spun around and landed in the Headmaster's Office, only to find his two girlfriends standing beside him when he opened his eyes.
"Why are you guys here too?" Harry asked curiously.
"Curious." Cassandra replied concisely, keeping her usual cool demeanor.
Harry looked around the Headmaster's Office, Fox was sleeping soundly on the perch, and behind the desk was Dumbledore, looking not much different from the Dumbledore outside the memory, though perhaps with a few less wrinkles. Snow was falling outside the office, pale blue flakes drifting past the windows in the darkness, accumulating on the outside ledge.
The slightly younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, there was a knock on the door after a while.
"Come in." he said.
Voldemort walked in, his face strange and twisted, looking completely different from the ghostly Riddle Harry had seen—his eyes weren't so red yet, but his face was far less handsome than before. It looked like it had been burned, with features blurred, wax-like, twisted grotesquely.
His eye whites seemed permanently bloodshot now, but not overly distorted. He was wearing a long black cloak, his face as white as the snowflakes on his shoulders.
"So ugly." Cassandra said disdainfully, "How did he become so... revolting?"
"Is this the price for gaining power?" Harry glanced at Voldemort's bald head, "Did I go bald and get stronger too?"
"Heh." Cassandra sneered, "I haven't seen you or Grindelwald become so ugly—"
"If I had to choose, I'd rather live a mediocre life than become so ugly." Vivi said with a very determined tone.
For girls, beauty seems to be more precious.
But Harry thought Vivi wasn't being completely honest, if given a choice at age twelve, she might choose to pursue power, never to return.
Only those who have truly experienced it can understand how precious power really is.
Cassandra seemed to agree with Harry, she also thought Vivi wouldn't choose beauty over power.
Dumbledore behind the desk didn't look surprised, the visit was obviously prearranged.
"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore said casually.
"Thank you." Voldemort sat in the chair Dumbledore indicated.
"I hear you've become headmaster," his voice was higher than in his soul state and colder, "an honorable choice."
"I'm glad you approve." Dumbledore smiled, "May I offer you a drink?"
"Thanks, I've come a long way." Voldemort said.
Dumbledore got up and strode to the cabinet where the Meditation Basin was now kept but was then full of bottles.
He handed Voldemort a glass of wine and poured himself one before returning to the desk.
"So, Tom... what brings you here?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
Voldemort didn't answer immediately, sipping his wine slowly, finally speaking after a long pause.
"They don't call me 'Tom' anymore. These days, I'm known as—"
"I know what they call you," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "but to me, you'll always be Tom Riddle. It's one of the annoying things about being a teacher; they never fully forget their students' earlier selves."
Harry noticed that after Dumbledore's words, Voldemort's eyes clearly showed displeasure.
It's not surprising, someone as arrogant as Voldemort would obviously despise the name from his Muggle father.
He was eager for people to forget what he considered a "shameful" name and call him something else.
This is also why Voldemort quickly changed his title after gaining power—he didn't want anyone knowing he had Muggle blood.
After speaking, Dumbledore raised his glass, as if to toast Voldemort.
Voldemort remained expressionless.
"Can you see?" Vivi whispered, "Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name is a refusal to let Voldemort control the conversation."
Indeed, otherwise Voldemort wouldn't be so displeased.
"I also think this is a confrontation between the two," Cassandra murmured, "maybe... this is one of the reasons why Voldemort came to Hogwarts?"
"Probably not," Harry said, "or rather, not just that. I remember seeing in Voldemort's memory that when he returned to Hogwarts, he placed the already-made Horcrux, Ravenclaw's Crown, into the Room of Requirement—"
Just as he finished speaking, Vivi stomped her foot heavily.
"No wonder, no wonder I smelled the stench of a Horcrux in the Room of Requirement!" she said angrily, "So it was Voldemort's doing... well done, well done!"
Clearly, Vivi was genuinely angry—after all, the Room of Requirement was once the initial Phoenix Society's meeting room.
It was also a place where Vivi and Harry left countless sweet memories.
Polluted by Voldemort's Horcrux?
Simply unforgivable!
Cassandra discreetly moved aside, slowly shifting from Vivi's side to the other side of Harry.
"Calm down, Vivi." Harry said, patting Vivi's conscience, trying to console her.
Vivi was still upset, while on the other side, the conversation between Voldemort and Dumbledore continued.
"I'm surprised you've stayed here so long," Voldemort said after a pause, "I always wondered why a wizard like you never thought of leaving the school."
"Oh," Dumbledore said, still smiling, "there's nothing more important for a wizard like me than to impart ancient arts and train young minds. If I recall correctly, you once saw the allure of teaching as well."
"I still do," Voldemort said, "I'm just curious why you—a wizard often consulted by the Ministry of Magic and apparently nominated twice as Minister of Magic—"
"Actually three times, but the Ministry of Magic's profession never attracted me. It's something we have in common, I guess." Dumbledore corrected.