"Are you sad for your mother?" Elwyn asked, looking at him in surprise. Was this the Lord Voldemort he knew?
"No, it's just her stupidity. That's why I'm sad."
Although he said that, Riddle cried after learning about his parents' past, which in itself said a lot.
He was sad for Merope's experience. It was perhaps the part of him that belonged to people, the only soft place in his heart.
After being abandoned by Tom Riddle Sr., Merope came to London alone.
She was pregnant and could not return to the old Gunter house. There was no one and no place for her to go.
She was so poor that, in order to survive, she had to sell her priceless locket to Mr. Burke of Borgin Burke's mercantile house.
She had only ten gold coins, and she had held on with them for nearly a year.
Suffering, grief, grief, and chronic malnutrition finally killed her.
Then, on a snowy New Year's Eve, she fainted on the front steps of a Muggle orphanage.
There, she gave birth to Lord Voldemort. Less than an hour later, she died, leaving behind the newborn baby, the name Tom Marvolo Riddle, the hope that the child would be like his father, the love for the child and his father, and an unerasable shame.
There was no doubt that this was a great shame to Lord Voldemort.
At least until he was 15 years old, he kept it in his heart.
He thought that his mother was like those stupid Muggle girls, shameless, played with, and heartlessly abandoned.
In the end, she died.
Like many other sad Muggle girls, she died in obscurity, and no one even knew her name.
But in fact, it was a struggle against fate, a failed struggle.
The complexity of the matter was far beyond imagination, and Merope was far stronger than Riddle had imagined.
When the 15-year-old Riddle first learned about these things, it would definitely have affected him.
This could be proved by the photo that was torn and glued back together. His feelings at that time were incomparably complicated.
For a fifteen-year-old boy, even if his life experience was filled with darkness, it was impossible for him to not have any feelings for his mother.
He must have fantasized about it countless times, and this feeling was called love!
It was very small, but it had indeed existed in the heart of the Lord Voldemort, deeply buried in the heart of a fifteen-year-old boy.
"The basis of communication is sincerity!" Elwyn reminded.
"Well, if that's what you want to know, I admit that I did feel sadness, but there was definitely no love!" Riddle insisted.
"But you cried?"
"I did cry because I couldn't control my stupid tears and they flowed out by themselves!" He shouted loudly, and the body formed by the shadow shook violently. "I regret doing this. My emotions and actions must have accidentally triggered the magic left on this ring. After a while of shaking, I saw my mother suddenly appear beside me. Yes, I've never seen her before, but she looks exactly the same as in the picture. "
"This stone can summon the dead back." Dumbledore said softly, gesturing for Elwyn not to continue asking about this. "But it doesn't seem to be the way I imagined, or we used it the wrong way. Tom, you saw your mother, and then what happened? "
Ever since he was a student, Dumbledore had wanted to obtain all the Sacred Weapons of Death, especially the Resurrection Stone, which was especially important to him.
He had wanted to use it to resurrect his parents, so that he would not have to take care of his sister, Arianna.
Now, he also wanted to obtain it.
He wanted to resurrect his sister and tell her personally how much he regretted it …
But the experience just now might have made Dumbledore understand that the Resurrection Stone could not really resurrect the dead.
It could only summon the soul, or something more real than the soul, but it was definitely not a true resurrection.
But from Dumbledore's tone, it seemed that he was not too sure, or rather, he had not given up yet.
"That woman said a lot of stupid things to me. It was a kind of magic power that I did not understand. She guided me forward, away from that big house, and into an illusory world, the world of Death," Riddle said slowly.
He closed his eyes, as if recalling the terrible experience.
Elwyn quickly looked at the ring and the black gem on it. The way to use the Resurrection Stone was to spin it three times in the hand.
But whether it was Riddle or Dumbledore, they did not do so, but they still triggered the magic on the Resurrection Stone.
Dumbledore's situation just now could be explained. His blood dripped onto the Resurrection Stone and triggered the magic of the Lord Voldemort.
But Riddle definitely did not use the Resurrection Stone in the right way. What was going on?
Also, the Resurrection Stone did not have the ability to lead the living to the world of the dead.
Elwyn was not too sure about this, because he remembered that Harry used this Resurrection Stone in the original work.
After Harry was killed by the Lord Voldemort, he entered the world of the dead. He saw the dead Dumbledore and received the final guidance.
This was very unusual in itself. Normally, destroying the soul in one's body would not have such an effect.
Perhaps, as Riddle had said, the Resurrection Stone and the ring had magic that they did not understand, bringing the living to the world of the dead.
Looking at the other things left behind by Slytherin, which one was really simple? That guy liked to keep secrets.
Maybe because Riddle was his descendant, and he fulfilled some conditions, the magic he left behind was triggered.
"Tom, what did the world you saw look like?" Dumbledore asked.
"It was an illusory world. Everything was black and white like I am now. It might be more realistic than the fog, but it was still full of a depressing feeling. My mother and I left the big house. She said she would bring me home. We passed through the canyon and came here..."
"Here?!"
"That's right. What a joke. She actually called this broken house home," Riddle said in disgust. Riddle said in disgust. "In the images I saw, this house was not in ruins, but the way it was when people lived in it. I met my grandfather, Marvolo Gunter, and he told me his name was Marvolo Gunter. He spoke to me, and although I have always wanted to communicate with him, this situation is too abnormal. I am not stupid enough to believe the nonsense of a dead man transformed by magic."
"What did you do then?" Dumbledore asked with interest.
"I pulled out my wand and cast a spell at him. He dodged it and his figure changed again. He wasn't Marvolo Gunter at all, but the Grim Reaper in disguise, an old man with a hood. I hate that guy!" Riddle said sharply. "He made me uncomfortable, so I used the Avada Curse on him."
"Interesting!" Dumbledore said softly, as if he was considering the truth of Riddle's words.
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