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 particularly 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 was Dumbledore's child and not others, it was because of the atmosphere between them. Could it be that he was 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 in 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 out 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 right to the point - go to Ollivanders. 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 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 a good collection of reports about Potter."

"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. Excellent 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 reluctantly, and then looked at Riddle. , but because it was still a side face and it was a little dark in the room, he did not 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 face and said politely and distantly. He said the same words and was in the same place as he did fifty-five years ago.

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

"It's-it's you!"

"D-Dumbledore, what are you doing?" The tape measure in Ollivander's hand fell to the ground unconsciously. His hands were trembling, as if he was trying hard to pick it up, but he couldn't.

For the mysterious man, Ollivander has always been fearful with a little pride.

The magic wand is chosen by the wizard, who made the excellent wand and assisted the mysterious man in accomplishing great things.

Anyway, the mysterious person he couldn't name had done something big, terrible, but still big.

But when he actually faced the mysterious man, Ollivander's hand, which was so precise and so stable that it could embed magic substance into a wooden bar less than twenty inches, couldn't stop trembling.

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

"No need, little sir."

"Maybe I saw it wrong." Ollivander took a deep breath and regained his demeanor as the best wandmaker.

He took a deep look at Dumbledore and then immediately looked away.

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

He began to measure, first from shoulder to fingertips, then from wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knees to armpits, and finally the circumference of the head.

Like nothing happened.