Magical Studies at Hogwarts

"Apparition Lesson

If you are already seventeen years old or will turn seventeen by August 31st, you can take a twelve-week Apparition course taught by Apparition instructors at the Ministry of Magic.

If you are willing to participate, please sign below.

Tuition fee: twelve galleons.”

At the beginning of the new semester, the sixth-grade students were excited. In just a short time, a long line of people lined up in front of this notice posted on the bulletin board, all of whom wanted to sign it.

Everything was in order. Among them, Hermione signed her name first, then Ron, and finally Harry himself. They all met the conditions for registration. The only problem was Ron, who did not

Twelve galleons.

But that didn't matter, because his friend Harry had a lot of galleons...a lot.

Throughout the day, most of the sixth grade students were excited to learn about Apparition. You could see them discussing this subject anywhere. Without exception, they all longed for the kind of apparition that could disappear and appear at any time.

Life.

Originally, Harry just listened to their discussion quietly, but when Ron revealed that he had an experience of being apparated, he once again became the center of attention.

Almost the whole day, Harry was surrounded by sixth grade students who wanted him to teach about Apparition. Even though he told them that Apparition was very uncomfortable, he did not see a trace of timidity on their faces.

Just awe and growing interest.

"Speaking of which, what is the difference between Apparition and Apparition? Why are there two names?"

After finally getting rid of those classmates who were eager to learn, Harry suddenly remembered the two words he had heard before and couldn't help but ask.

"Actually, there is no difference." Hermione took a small bite of her sandwich at the long Gryffindor table and said, "If 'you' are the subject, Apparition is 'you' appearing somewhere, and Apparition is '

You're out of here. All in all, they're actually a charm."

"It's so complicated..."

"It's okay if you don't understand. The professor will tell you during the Apparition class."

"Okay..." Harry nodded, and then he saw a new group of seekers surrounding him, and he couldn't help but be startled.

At this time, there are only ten minutes left before eight o'clock!

Harry looked at Hermione and Ron, who immediately formed a tacit understanding to cover him so that he could run to the principal's office on time.

"Good evening, Harry."

The pensieve was placed on the table again, Dumbledore's hand was holding its edge, and two small silver bottles were placed next to it.

"Good evening, sir," Harry replied, "Two memories tonight?"

"Yes, they are all hard-earned, and I think the second one is the most important of all the memories I have collected."

"More important than the one at Stride?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said, his expression suddenly becoming serious, "But before that, we have to look at the first one."

"Tonight, we are going to continue the story of Tom Riddle..." Dumbledore went straight to the point and began to tell Harry what happened when Voldemort was at Hogwarts. For example, what he had done and what he thought of him

.

"...I didn't find many memories of Voldemort at Hogwarts." Dumbledore said, "Few people who knew him at the time wanted to talk about him. They were all too scared."

"But there are still a very few people who are willing to tell me some things about him, which are scattered and often not systematic. However, I also know one thing from these scattered memories, and that is Tom's understanding of his life experience.

Very fascinated.”

"It's easy to understand: he came from an orphanage and grew up there, so he naturally wanted to know how he got there. He had scoured Hogwarts for clues about old Tom Riddle, trophies, student rosters, but

Finding nothing, he was finally forced to admit that his father had never been to Hog

Watts..." Dumbledore took his glasses off the bridge of his nose and wiped them. "I think it was at that time that he abandoned the name Tom Riddle. After all, for him, it was his biological father's name.

He couldn't tolerate being unspecial, so he changed his name to Voldemort."

"I guess that's when he started investigating the mother he once despised..."

"You should still remember what he once said: Since that woman succumbed to death, she cannot be a wizard."

"But he's wrong," Harry interjected.

"Yes, but he didn't know it at the time, and the only clue he had was the name 'Marvolo'." Dumbledore put on his glasses, "In the end, he found out in many old books and his investigation of wizard families

I found some clues that there is still a remnant of the Slytherin family..."

"That summer vacation, when he was sixteen years old, he did not go back to the orphanage he went to every year, but chose to look for his possible relatives..."

Dumbledore opened the first bottle and poured the memories inside into the pensieve. Then he stretched out his hand to Harry, motioning for him to grab it.

A few seconds later, Harry found himself in a somewhat familiar place, but what he saw now was very different from what he saw before.

Although it was very dilapidated before, it was not as dirty as it is now. The ceiling was covered with thick spider webs, the floor was dark, and the moldy food and rusty pots on the table were mixed together, but there was no trace of it.

A little smell comes through.

The room was very dark, and the only light came from a candle at the feet of a man that looked like it was going to be extinguished soon. His hair and beard were very long, completely covering his eyes and mouth, and he was motionless. Harry even thought he was dead.

.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and the man woke up immediately. He held a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left hand. As soon as he got up from the ground, the door opened, and a young and handsome boy stood at the door.

It was Voldemort.

The man's eyes fell on the young Voldemort, and after staring at his face for a long time, he suddenly became excited.

"You! You!" He yelled and stepped forward, but kicked the wine bottles scattered on the ground. He staggered immediately and rushed towards Voldemort at an even faster speed.

"stop!"

There was a rustling sound, and the man couldn't help but be startled, but he couldn't hold it back even if he wanted to stop, so he simply fell to the side and hit the table directly.

He held the dirty tabletop, looked through his long hair, and looked at the child in front of him more carefully.

"Would you say something like that?"

"Yes, I can." Voldemort looked at the dilapidated room wildly and asked, "Where is Marvolo?"

"Dead, many years ago."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Morfin."