Tom Is Voldemort

"Alright, but Mr. Potter, you really mustn't tell anyone else," Rita said weakly, staring pleadingly at Harry.

Harry didn't agree outright. "That depends on your performance."

Rita turned pitifully to Hermione and Ron for support.

Hermione showed no reaction.

Ron, imitating Harry, said awkwardly, "That depends on your performance."

Rita gritted her teeth in frustration. What was wrong with these kids?

"How's the investigation going on the things I asked about?" Harry asked.

Rita took a deep breath. "That wasn't easy to dig up."

Harry, his expression calm, gestured downward, motioning for her to sit. "Which means you did manage to find something."

Rita froze. She increasingly felt that Harry wasn't like any other fourth-year student. How could someone his age be so sharp, as if he could see right through people's minds? Could his Legilimency have become so advanced that she didn't even notice?

"I didn't use Legilimency," Harry said plainly, waving his hand again. "Sit down. Let's talk."

Rita's face turned pale.

He'd guessed her thoughts so precisely and claimed he wasn't using Legilimency?

These Legilimency masters were the worst!

Still, she sat down reluctantly, taking out her wand. "Mr. Potter, why don't we make an Unbreakable Vow? That way—"

Harry said nothing, but the cold, steady gaze he fixed on her made her words trail off. Her hand, which had been raised in a flourish, dropped limply. "Fine, I get it," she said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Rita waved her wand. With a few quick swishes, a stack of papers flew out from her small handbag, piling up to the height of a fist on the table.

"These are the names of Ministry employees who were once Death Eaters," Rita said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Discussing gossip seemed to reinvigorate her. "Honestly, it's shocking how nearly a third of former Death Eaters are still working in the Ministry."

Ron gasped audibly, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Even Hermione appeared startled.

"If this were published in the Daily Prophet, it would cause an absolute uproar," Rita said, flushed with excitement at the thought.

Harry casually picked up one of the papers.

"Augustus Rookwood, Ministry Department of Mysteries official."

The document included a brief description of him.

Harry picked up another sheet.

"Walden Macnair, Ministry Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures official."

The topmost sheets listed "former Death Eaters" still employed by the Ministry. Lower down were those who had left and found other ways to make a living.

"Not bad," Harry said with a nod. "What about the second matter?"

Rita grimaced. "Mr. Potter, your requests are truly troublesome."

"That's Azkaban we're talking about. Even as an Animagus, the Dementors' presence was unbearable. I took a huge risk."

Harry tapped his fingers on the table, signaling her to continue.

Rita hesitated before switching her tone. "I checked Barty Crouch Jr.'s grave. His remains were inside. While his face is unrecognizable, I can confirm it was the body of a young man."

Hermione and Ron froze mid-flip through the Death Eater files and scooted their chairs slightly away from Rita.

Rita glared at the two of them.

What's that supposed to mean?!

It's not like I just dug up the grave and came straight here!

I've bathed countless times since then, cleaned myself thoroughly inside and out!

And I used magic to dig, not my bare hands! There's no way I'd be carrying any trace of corpse odor!

Besides, I'm doing this for Harry! For your Harry!

"Are you sure it was Barty Crouch Jr.?" Harry asked. "Was there any way to identify his face?"

Rita hesitated, shaking her head. "Of course not. He's been dead for over a decade. The body was thoroughly decomposed."

"Are you suggesting the dead man might not be Barty Crouch Jr.?"

Her expression brightened with excitement, and she instinctively pulled out her quill and notebook. She placed them on her lap before realizing this wasn't the time to record anything. Sheepishly, she put them back in her bag.

Harry nodded. "I need you to investigate the Crouch household further. Confirm whether the deceased truly was Barty Crouch Jr."

Rita, ever the eager reporter, agreed immediately. "Of course! I'd be happy to."

For a journalist, uncovering a scandalous mystery like this was thrilling—low risk and high reward.

"And the third matter?" Harry prompted.

Rita's face fell.

"Tell me your progress," Harry said, his brow furrowing slightly.

She sighed. "This one is truly difficult. Tom Riddle is such an ordinary name—boring, even. There aren't any students at Hogwarts with that surname. I can't imagine why you're so interested in him."

She was still fishing for information.

Harry didn't respond, simply fixing her with a steady gaze.

Rita adjusted her demeanor, suppressing her natural inquisitiveness. "At first, I couldn't find anything about him at the Ministry—no trace of his existence at all.

"But since you insisted, I figured he had to be real."

"So I dug deeper, venturing into areas of the Ministry where classified archives are kept. Places I wouldn't have dared to go before. That's where I found some records."

She paused for effect. "But those files are magically protected. I couldn't take them out, so I memorized what I could to report back to you."

Harry gestured to her bag. "Write it down with a quill."

Rita rummaged through her belongings and took out her notebook and quill. But just as she was about to start writing, she hesitated. "Mr. Potter, may I borrow one of your quills? Mine is charmed for journalism—it might not accurately record what I'm saying."

With a flick of her wand, Hermione sent a quill flying from the table toward Rita.

Smack!

It hit Rita squarely in the face, knocking her glasses askew.

"Sorry, I didn't aim well," Hermione said flatly, withdrawing her wand.

Rita adjusted her glasses, plastering on a smile. "No problem."

Internally, she fumed. You think I don't recognize you? Hermione Granger, the brightest fourth-year in Gryffindor, even approved to use a Time-Turner by the Ministry. And you can't control your wandwork? As if.

Rita enchanted the quill to record her words. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, born December 31, 1926, in Little Hangleton. He was an outstanding student at Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin. He reported Rubeus Hagrid during the Chamber of Secrets incident and received a Special Services Award for it."

"As a Riddle, his mother was part of the renowned Gaunt family. It's shocking to learn the Gaunts had intermingled with Muggles. Almost no one knows he's a Gaunt descendant."

She paused, hoping to elicit a reaction from Harry.

But his expression remained calm, as did Hermione's.

Only Ron's face betrayed a flicker of emotion—but it wasn't shock or awe. His brows furrowed in a look of distaste, almost disgust.

What? Why that expression? Even if the Weasleys weren't fond of pureblood elitism, surely they wouldn't find it this offensive?

Still puzzled, Rita continued, "Despite his pureblood heritage, he was abandoned and grew up in a Muggle orphanage. But that didn't stop him from excelling."

"With twelve O.W.L.s, he graduated with offers from the Ministry, including positions in the Department of Mysteries and Magical Law Enforcement. Yet he declined them all and chose instead to work at a shop in Knockturn Alley."

"After that... there's no further record of him. It's as if his life simply stopped."

Rita hesitated, then added, "I was curious, so I transformed and snuck into the shop, but there was no employee named Tom Riddle."

"What's the shop called?" Harry asked.

"Borgin and Burkes," Rita answered immediately.

Harry nodded. Rita's curiosity got the better of her again—initially, she thought this Tom Riddle might be dangerous, but her investigation revealed an unimpressive, albeit academically gifted individual.

She hesitated, then asked cautiously, "Mr. Potter, who exactly is Tom Riddle? Why are you so interested in him?"

Harry's tone was calm. "You seem genuinely curious, so I'll tell you."

Rita sat up straight, her quill poised to record.

"After leaving that shop, Tom Riddle disappeared for ten years. When he returned, he had transformed himself through magic—so thoroughly that no one could recognize the brilliant, handsome student he once was. He even changed his name."

Rita blinked in surprise.

"You know the name well," Harry continued, his voice steady. "It's Voldemort. That's the name he adopted after his transformation."

Rita froze, a shiver running down her spine. She stared at Harry in horror, feeling as though she had been plunged into icy water.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half-blood, was the same person as the Dark Lord Voldemort, the extremist advocate of pureblood supremacy?

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Powerstones?

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