章節 32: The Truth About Tom Riddle
Harry activated the Marauder's Map again, his eyes slowly scanning it. It was a goldmine of information, giving details about what people were up to by simply observing their movements, which he would pass on to Daphne. She was overjoyed when she realised the amount of blackmail material it offered. Such things were extremely useful if one had to survive in Slytherin, which her parents had repeatedly told her and Astoria growing up. A couple of minutes later, his eyes narrowed. This was something he hadn't seen the last time.
Professor Quirrell's name seemed to overlap with another name, but he couldn't read it clearly. Harry tapped his wand on the map, ordering it to magnify, showing the name which was overlapping with Quirrell's.
Tom Riddle.
"Tom Riddle?" Harry whispered to himself in confusion. He winced in pain as another memory assaulted his mind.
He was in his bed in the Slytherin dormitories. He kept tapping his wand on the sheet of parchment and wondered if he was ever going to succeed. The letters kept interchanging over and over again, but none of them made any sense. His original name returned.
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
Anger bubbled in his gut as he angrily tapped his wand on the sheet once more. Letters changed again, but this time, it formed something different. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the words written on the parchment. It was a perfect anagram of his name, which was what he originally intended. It also made sense because his goal was to conquer death. What a perfect word! It meant 'Flight from Death'. He smirked at the words he could see which were shimmering under the light from his wand -
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
Harry gasped as he picked himself from the floor, his body still trembling slightly, having collapsed due to the pain of the memory slamming into his conscious mind. He had to control himself when those memories assaulted him. It would be monumentally disastrous if Dumbledore or the Ministry found out that he somehow had Voldemort's memories in his head. He swallowed heavily when his gaze returned to the map.
He couldn't believe it. Voldemort was still alive? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? The Killing Curse was said to have impacted him, right? If that were true, then how could Voldemort be inside the castle? Harry knew it was the truth - the map never lies, after all. It had Gryffindor blood powering it, so it was linked to the wards themselves. A shiver of fear ran down the length of Harry's spine as he looked at the name with wide eyes.
Tom Riddle
If Voldemort was inside the castle, then why was his name nearly combined with that of Quirrell? Was he disguised as Quirrell, using the form as an alias? In that case, Harry was in grave danger.
What to do?
Harry already knew that Dumbledore had kept a fake Philosopher's stone in the school. He did not believe even for a second that it could be the real one. There was no way Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel would give away their prized alchemical discovery. The stone was the only thing keeping them alive, after all. They might be very old, but he doubted they were that stupid.
But apparently, Voldemort had taken the bait. Harry had heard Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger discussing the stone many times since the second term began. Curiously enough, each time, Harry would be in the vicinity, though he didn't understand the reasoning behind it. He had simply shrugged it off after researching about the stone.
He also knew that there was a Cerberus behind that door in the third-floor corridor from speaking to the Weasley twins who had investigated it. He had read about them from a book he had taken from the Potter family library. Very little was known about those monster dogs, but apparently, music can make it go to sleep.
Harry absentmindedly gripped the locked hanging from around his neck. Opening it, he saw a picture of his parents smiling back at him, waving as though they could actually see him. His face remained stony as he looked back. He didn't remember them, but reading their journals, and the way both of them described him, their son, had touched Harry's wounded heart just after he had escaped the Dursleys. Harry may not even remember their voices, but they were his parents and the strange feeling in his chest returned again. If not for Voldemort, he would have had parents. If not for Voldemort, he would not have been abandoned at the Dursleys. If not for Voldemort, he would have lived a carefree life as any eleven-year-old should.
He needed to get rid of Voldemort. He was probably the one who let the troll inside the castle on Samhain, so there was no telling what lengths the Dark Lord would go to get the stone and maybe kill Harry himself in the process. Harry had also noted Quirrell eyeing him recently. Ergo, he had to go. But how?
A week later, Harry finally had enough courage to put his plan in motion. He had been tempted to contact his godfather but had restrained himself. Sirius would not approve of Harry's decision. He didn't like it much either, but he wasn't going to let Voldemort kill him now; not when his future was finally looking bright. Swallowing his nervousness and trying to control his slightly shaking limbs, he donned the Invisibility Cloak and sneaked out of Ravenclaw Tower.
....
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