Everyday Players at Hogwarts

"Who do you think that is?"

"Dumbledore!"

"Is that his child next to you?"

"Who is his mother? Professor McGonagall?"

"I think it's Professor Sprout!"

"No, I think it's Mrs. Huo Qi!"

"I think it's Madam Pomfrey from the school doctor's office!"

"How is it possible? This child is so handsome. I think only the charming Mrs. Rosmerta could have given birth to him."

"That's right. Dumbledore would go to Three Broomsticks to buy wine whenever he had time. Oak-ripened mead was his favorite!"

.

Diagon Alley was extremely lively at this time. Although it was still early for school to start, the idlers from the Leaky Cauldron couldn't help but come to the streets of Diagon Alley and look at the people not far away. An old man and a young man discussed in a hidden way.

Among these idle people, Dedalo Dige's answer was the most authoritative and convinced by everyone. Because he is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, that handsome boy with black hair must be the child of Dumbledore and Madam Rosmerta!

As for why that boy is Dumbledore's child and not others, is it because of the atmosphere between them? Could it be that he is Dumbledore's little lover?

They all knew that Rita Skeeter's slander about Dumbledore's sexual orientation was definitely wrong.

The regulars of the Leaky Cauldron, who claim to be the best at seeing the true nature of the magical world, think so.

But this is also related to the dark-skinned boy Dean next to Di Ge. He is the child of Hadwin Jones who also liked to hang out at the Leaky Cauldron.

This makes it easy for them to subconsciously think about their children. Maybe Dumbledore has a child who is hiding in the Muggle world like Hadwin's wife, or is hiding directly.

"Dumbledore, the one in purple is your servant, right? Well, maybe you would be more satisfied if I used followers?" Riddle whispered to Dumbledore on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, surrounded by people People subconsciously stayed away from them.

After all, Dumbledore is the principal of Hogwarts, and he is over a hundred years old. It can be said that almost everyone in Diagon Alley at this time was once his student.

When facing teachers, few people dare to say hello outside the classroom, especially Dumbledore, the most influential figure in the wizarding world.

"What, Tom? You can't stand being looked at? I don't remember you being like that," said Dumbledore.

The purpose of bringing Riddle here this time was to attract possible Death Eaters. It would be better if Voldemort knew about it.

"No, I just think we might as well get straight to the point - go to Ollivander's. If we wander around a few more times, the Daily Prophet will probably publish the news "Dumbledore's new 'lover'? - Harry" Potter fell out of favor," Riddle quipped.

His peripheral vision swept across a corner, and the platinum-blonde hair flashed brightly in the sun.

"Oh, Tom, you also read those reports. I don't think you think they are true." Dumbledore said happily. He had never spoken to Riddle like this for a long time. No, he had never spoken to Riddle like this.

"I'm just curious about what kind of person Harry Potter is. Fortunately, my predecessor, Quirrell, has collected the reports about Potter very well."

"Also, I'm already waiting to see how the Daily Prophet will arrange you."

"Rita Skeeter is such an interesting wizard." Riddle's chiselled cheeks revealed a charming pear dimple with a smile.

This caused people not far away to discuss again, why was he smiling? Was it because he finally recognized his father?

"No, I think you may not know much about it. The Daily Prophet has now been acquired. That person is Sirius. According to you, he is my follower." Dumbledore replied briskly, and Riddle frowned. He frowned.

The two of them walked together towards Ollivander's wand shop on the street, at the end of Diagon Alley.

Soon, a small and shabby store appeared in front of Dumbledore and Riddle. The door was written in mottled gold letters: Ollivander: Made since 382 BC. A fine wand.

The jingling bells accompanied the two people's approach, as if to remind the shop owner of the guest's presence.

"Ah, Albus Dumbledore!"

"The greatest wizard!"

"Are you here for the wand?"

"My father never told me the combination of your wand until his death. Do you need me to check and repair it?" Ollivander, who was sitting on the chair, stood up and flew to Dumbledore. .

His pale eyes shone brightly, like a bright moon.

"No, Garrick, I think you have mistaken the person." Dumbledore turned sideways, revealing Riddle who was stroking the wand placed alone on the faded purple cushion through the glass.

"Okay, okay, Dumbledore. But what I just said is still valid. You can come to me at any time!" Ollivander muttered a few words unwillingly, and then looked at Riddle, but because he was still sideways, Face, and the room was a little dark, he didn't see the shocking face clearly, "Sir, do you want to buy a wand? Well, I think you look familiar. You should have been here before."

"Does it need a new wand? Or is it repaired?" Ollivander looked at Riddle curiously. A wizard who can let Dumbledore accompany him must not be simple. He might be able to get a wand with the same extraordinary combination as Harry Potter's.

"Sir, I need a wand." Riddle turned his head and said politely and distantly, saying the same words as he did fifty-five years ago, in the same place.

At that time, he also looked at the lonely wand in the window with curiosity, imagining how unusual it was.

"It's you!"

"Dumbledore, what are you doing?" The tape measure in Ollivander's hand fell to the ground unconsciously, and his hands trembled, as if he tried to pick it up, but he couldn't.

For the mysterious man, Ollivander has always been a little proud in fear.

The wand chooses the wizard. It is the excellent wand he made that assisted the mysterious man to achieve a great cause.

In any case, the mysterious man he could not nominate did a great thing, although it was terrible, but it was still a great thing.

But when he really faced the mysterious man, Ollivander's hands, which were so precise and stable that they could embed magical substances in a wooden strip less than twenty inches, could not stop shaking.

"Hello, my name is Tom Riddle. Have you seen me before, sir?" Riddle stretched out his beautiful and well-proportioned right hand, as if he wanted to pull Ollivander, who was still picking up the tape measure on the ground.

"No need, young sir."

"Maybe I saw it wrong." Ollivander took a deep breath and regained the demeanor of the best wand maker.

He looked at Dumbledore deeply, and then immediately shifted his gaze.

When he opened his eyes again, he seemed to have returned to the way he was before he recognized Riddle.

He began to measure the size, first from the shoulder to the fingertips, then from the wrist to the elbow, the shoulder to the floor, the knee to the armpit, and finally the head circumference.

It was as if nothing had happened.