The Fall of Dumbledore: The White King

Memories and Manipulations

The gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office stepped aside without a password, clearly expecting Hades's arrival. Inside, silver instruments whirred and puffed, while Fawkes dozed on his perch. Dumbledore stood by his Pensieve, his cursed hand concealed within his sleeve.

"Ah, Hades. Thank you for coming." The old wizard's smile was gentle, grandfatherly. "I thought it time we discussed Tom Riddle."

Hades kept his face carefully neutral. "What about him, sir?"

"I believe understanding his past is key to understanding our present circumstances." Dumbledore gestured to the Pensieve. "I've collected certain memories... though I must warn you, some have been difficult to obtain, and others may be... disturbing."

The first memory swirled beneath them – a dreary orphanage in London. Hades watched a younger Dumbledore meet an eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. The scene was clearly meant to paint Tom as disturbed, dangerous. A child who hurt others, who collected trophies, who needed to dominate.

But Hades saw something else: a powerful young wizard, isolated among muggles who feared and hated his gifts. A child protecting himself the only way he knew how.

"He never changed, you see," Dumbledore said softly as they emerged. "The cruelty, the need for power..."

"Or perhaps he learned early that power was the only protection in a world that feared him," Hades couldn't help suggesting.

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "You feel sympathy for him?"

"I spent ten years in a cupboard, sir, with guardians who hated magic." Hades met the old wizard's gaze steadily. "I understand what it means to be different."

A flash of discomfort crossed Dumbledore's face. "Your situation was... regrettable. But Tom chose to embrace darkness, to delve into the foulest magic–"

They plunged into another memory – Tom as a brilliant student, charming professors, asking questions about ancient magic. Then another: Tom working at Borgin & Burkes, collecting artifacts of power. Each scene was carefully chosen to show ambition twisted into corruption, curiosity warped into obsession.

"He began creating Horcruxes," Dumbledore explained gravely. "Splitting his soul through murder, hiding the pieces in objects of significance. It's why he didn't truly die that night... why he was able to return."

Hades allowed his eyes to widen slightly, performing the expected shock. "How many did he make?"

"I believe he aimed for seven – a magically powerful number." Dumbledore held up his blackened hand. "I found one. A ring, belonging to his grandfather. The curse upon it... well."

"Is that why you're showing me this?" Hades asked quietly. "Because you're dying?"

"I'm showing you because you need to understand what we're fighting. What Tom Riddle truly is."

Later that night, Hades sat before his enchanted mirror, relating everything to a very amused Tom Riddle.

"He's showing you exactly what he wants you to see," Tom mused. "Carefully edited memories, designed to paint me as a monster beyond redemption."

"He mentioned the Horcruxes," Hades reported. "Showed me his hand – the ring's curse is spreading."

"Good. Let him waste his remaining time hunting shadows." Tom's dark eyes glittered. "What did you think of my younger self?"

"I think you were like me," Hades said honestly. "Someone who saw magic's true potential, who refused to be limited by others' fears and prejudices. Though I suspect Dumbledore deleted the memories of any professors who actually supported your research."

"Quite likely. Horace Slughorn, for instance, was far more... understanding of my interests than these memories suggest." Tom smiled slightly. "Keep attending these lessons. The more Dumbledore trusts you, the more valuable information he'll reveal."

"He truly believes he can save me," Hades noted with a hint of dark amusement. "Turn me away from your influence through these carefully curated glimpses of your past."

"The old man always did have a weakness for redemption stories." Tom's expression grew serious. "But be careful, Hades. His manipulation is subtle but powerful. He excels at twisting truth just enough to serve his purposes."

"I know who I am," Hades said firmly. "Who my true family is. His machinations can't change that."

After ending the communication, Hades remained at his desk, thinking. Dumbledore's memories had revealed more than the old wizard intended – showing how the magical world's fear of true power, of ancient knowledge, had driven them to reject and demonize those who sought to preserve it.

The same patterns played out today. Customs and rituals labeled "dark" because they required real sacrifice, real commitment. Knowledge restricted because it might be "dangerous" in the wrong hands. A culture of magical mediocrity, all in the name of safety and light.

Well, let Dumbledore believe his lessons were having the intended effect. Let him think he was slowly winning over Severus Snape's son, guiding him back to the light. The truth was far more complex – and far more dangerous – than the old wizard could imagine.

Besides, Hades had more immediate concerns. The Vanishing Cabinet needed work, and Draco was waiting in the Room of Requirement. Some lessons were far more pleasant than others.