Chapter 180 The Birth of the Dark Lord

Rolf fell down, as if he was sucked into a black vortex. When he landed, he appeared in a small square courtyard.

Snow fell heavily from the sky, covering the ground, bending the branches of the short trees, and covering the world with a white coat.

In the house not far away, a woman's shrill and sharp howling sounded, which made people's backs numb and was out of tune with the scenery in front of them.

Rolf walked through the snow that covered his ankles, walked to Dumbledore, and asked, "Professor, where is this?"

The old man stood in the middle of the yard, with his hands behind his back, looking up at the heavy snow, and whispered:

"A Muggle orphanage, this is where Tom Riddle grew up, and he lived here until he was eleven years old."

Rolf looked around in surprise. Is this the Wu Orphanage?

"Rolf, I think you already know - Tom's diary - is the Horcrux he made when he was sixteen years old." Dumbledore said.

The boy nodded.

"The function of the Horcrux is to help the owner avoid death, and the creator will try every means to hide it."

Dumbledore stretched out his wrinkled fingers, and soft snowflakes passed through his palms and slowly fell to the ground. He said calmly:

"But Tom gave the diary to Malfoy, hoping that the soul in the diary could be attached to someone else, so as to open the Chamber of Secrets and release the basilisk."

Dumbledore paused, sorted out his thoughts, and then said: "Doing so will undoubtedly risk the Horcrux being destroyed - this actually happened: that piece of soul no longer exists.

Tom's protection of the diary is extraordinary. Often careless..."

"Unless he has made more Horcruxes." Rolf continued the old man's words, "So losing one will not be so dangerous."

"That's right." Dumbledore was very happy that the boy could follow his thoughts. He sighed softly:

"There is another piece of evidence. Voldemort seems to be becoming less and less human in recent years, both in character and appearance.

I can only explain this change as the damage to his soul far beyond the scope of ordinary black magic."

Dumbledore looked at the house where the screams came from, and his eyes above his half-moon glasses looked very serious.

"So, I'm collecting Tom's life story, trying to find clues about other Horcruxes.

If you want to defeat a person, you have to understand him thoroughly."

Rolf nodded slightly, followed the old man's gaze, looked at the low house, and asked, "Who is the woman shouting in the house?"

"Merope Gaunt - Voldemort's mother." Dumbledore explained, "She came to this orphanage alone with her baby in her belly on the last day of 1926."

Hearing "1926", Rolf raised his eyebrows. He was too familiar with this year. It was in this year that the young Newt took the Thunderbird to the United States, met Tina, and captured Grindelwald by the way.

Rolf had heard Tina talk about these past events a lot before.

Who would have thought that when the first generation of the Dark Lord was stirring up trouble in the United States, the second generation of the Dark Lord was born in a Muggle orphanage far away in London.

"This memory comes from Mrs. Cole, she is the director of this orphanage." Dumbledore looked at the kitchen not far away.

A young woman was cooking in the kitchen. She was stirring the fire with a poker. There were neatly piled firewood beside her waiting to be cracked.

"Eleven years later, I came here to persuade her to let Tom Riddle go to Hogwarts." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Thirty years later, Tom had changed his appearance and became the famous Voldemort.

I found the elderly Mrs. Cole again and asked her for this long-lost memory of Merope Gaunt, which has been preserved to this day."

Hearing this, Rolf sighed inexplicably. The old woman's tone was calm, but it was the changes of the world and the passage of time in seventy years.

At this moment, a sharp cry came from the room.

Apparently, Tom was born.

Mrs. Cole hurriedly picked up a bowl of porridge, walked quickly across the courtyard and walked towards the room, the snow creaking under her feet.

Dumbledore and Rolf followed her into a very dim room. There was no fireplace in the room, only an iron brazier placed beside the bed, and the coal was burning.

A woman lay dying on the bed, probably only twenty years old, with messy black hair sticking to her haggard face, covered with a thick quilt.

The elderly woman who delivered the baby held the baby wrapped in a thick cloak and kept coaxing the baby, but the baby kept crying.

"Give me... give me the baby quickly..." Merope Gaunt sat up weakly, took the baby, undressed, and began to feed the baby.

"He looks so much like his father," Merope Gaunt said while the baby was sucking milk, "He has Tom's nose and Tom's hair..."

Rove was very skeptical. How could such a wrinkled, ugly, and small baby look like anyone?

"The child... his father's name is Tom, and his middle name is Marvolo after my father."

Merope lovingly touched the baby's soft dark hair, the hair slid through her fingers like black silk, and murmured:

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

After breastfeeding, Merope sang a lullaby to comfort the baby.

Dumbledore asked, "Can you understand it?"

Rolf nodded and said, "She used a snake-like voice."

But after singing once, the woman burst into tears and burst into tears. When the baby fell asleep, she seemed to have been drained of strength and lay back on the bed weakly.

"Madam...if one day, Tom grows up and he asks about me, if you are happy...please tell him, tell him...I love him."

"I will." Mrs. Cole sat on the edge of the bed, "Eat something first."

Cole fed Merope porridge, but she couldn't swallow it. As fast as the spoon filled her lips, the porridge dripped down her chin.

Mrs. Cole wiped the corners of Merope's mouth with her sleeve, while the woman looked at the sleeping little Tom with distracted eyes. Her lips were moving, but she couldn't hear what she was saying.

Mrs. Cole wiped her tears and choked up: "I promise you, Tom will never have to worry about food and clothing in the orphanage."

Hearing this, Merope smiled, it was hard but sweet.

She is dead.

"Melope Gaunt died not long after giving birth to Tom Riddle. She did not survive the next day's New Year's Day." Dumbledore sighed:

"Her son did grow up healthily according to her expectations, but he took a detour in the end."

Luo Fu was silent for a moment, then suddenly remembered something and asked:

"Professor, where was Merope Gaunt buried after she died?"

…

…

(Thanks to "Fish Lying in Taoyuan" and "Shang Jiangnan Kongzhixu" for their rewards.)