In 1938, Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster of Hogwarts yet. At that time, he was just a Transfiguration teacher in Hogwarts and was about 50 years old. But it was during this year that he did something so insignificant that it completely changed the future of the magic world.
He recruited the future Great Demon King Lord Voldemort into Hogwarts and started Tom Marvolo Riddle's pursuit of ambition.
Hoffa had read the original novel and was once one of its fans. But he never would have thought that he would transmigrate to this world after his death, to England in 1938, and meet one of this world's most powerful wizards as soon as he woke up.
He didn't know what this meant, but after Mrs. Cole left the room, Hoffa had already retreated to the corner of the room. He looked at Dumbledore, afraid that he would use a mind control spell on him or forget everything.
He couldn't accept either outcome. After all, he had just experienced death and memory confusion, and his nerves were still in a fragile state.
But Dumbledore didn't do that. Clearly, there was only a glimmer of interest in his eyes. He was very interested in this child in the orphanage who could call him by his name.
He wasn't in a hurry to talk to Hoffa. Instead, he untied the cat from his head and leaned against the broken table in the room, looking at Hoffa with a smile.
"Muggles don't know my name, Hoffa."
He had already memorized Hoffa's name.
"Oh." Hoffa replied dryly. He was a young man who lived for 20 years in his previous life. Dumbledore was at least 56 years old now. He didn't have the slightest sense of superiority in front of an old wizard who had lived for so many years.
"You didn't ask me what a Muggle is."
Dumbledore's blue eyes stared at Hoffa happily and said, "What's your full name, Hoffa?"
"Hoffa, Bach."
Hoffa sighed and decided to tell the truth. In front of this level of existence, he could only play the role of an honest child.
"Bach … Sounds like a family in France." Dumbledore pondered for a moment. Then he took out his magic wand and placed it flat on his knee.
Huo Fa instinctively shuddered. His eyes were filled with vigilance. He had already recovered from his initial shock. Now, he just wanted to get rid of Dumbledore as soon as possible and organize his thoughts. To face a new life.
Dumbledore's sharp senses detected Hoffa's fear, fear, he raised his magic wand and pointed Hoffa.
The vigilance in Huo Fa's eyes intensified. He took a step back and stuck to the corner of the wall.
What is he going to do? What does Dumbledore want with me?
Is it coming? Amnesia spell? Soul spell spell?
His heart was confused.
While he was extremely nervous.
Bang!
A glass on the table suddenly exploded, as if in response to Huofa's nervousness.
Then.
Puchi!
It was accompanied by a sound similar to a low-quality loudspeaker, like a cheap Halloween salute. Dumbledore's magic wand produced a few ribbons that floated down from the sky, accompanied by a few sparkles of light, and fell on Hoffa's face.
Hoffa was stunned and stuck to the corner of the wall, letting the ribbons fall and hang on his head.
What's going on? There was no such thing in the original work. What should I do?
Dumbledore coughed softly, put away his magic wand and muttered, "Am I that scary?"
Hoffa didn't speak. He looked at the glass on the table and then looked at Dumbledore's happy face. He was completely speechless.
"Did Boosbottom send you an invitation, Hoffa?"
Hoffa shook his head silently.
"I see … I know." (Hoffa didn't know what he knew.)
With that, he stood up, put the hat on his head, and said gently to Hoffa.
"Maybe you should change your environment. By the way, I also like short-haired cats. Find a better environment and bury this little guy."
With that, he winked slightly at Hoffa, turned and walked out of the door.
After Dumbledore left, Hoffa slowly sat down against the corner of the wall.
For a moment, his brain was a little down. After a while, he confirmed his coordinates in time and space.
In 1938, London, England, and Tom Riddle's orphanage.
And what Dumbledore had to do now was to recruit the future Black Devil.
Not long after, Hoffa heard a slight clicking sound from upstairs, like a nest of mice gnawing on the table. The sound was so subtle that it couldn't be heard if one didn't listen carefully.
But it wasn't mice. Hoffa knew what was going on.
In 1938, when Dumbledore recruited Tom Riddle, who was only 11 years old at the time, into Hogwarts, he expressed his dissatisfaction with Tom's bullying of other children. At that moment, he used the burning wardrobe to suppress Tom and forced the future Black Devil to repent for the only time in his life.
Harry Potter's story was very long, but if it really had to be said, perhaps this was the real beginning of the whole story.
After all, if Tom Riddle didn't enter Hogwarts, he wouldn't have become Lord Voldemort. If the Lord Voldemort didn't kill Harry Potter's parents, none of this would have happened.
And now, this historical moment happened right above his head.
Faint chatter could be heard coming from upstairs.
…
Boy: "I don't have money!"
Dumbledore: "That's easy to solve. Hogwarts has a fund for those who need funding to buy textbooks and school robes. I'm afraid some of your magic books can only be bought second-hand, but …"
Boy: "Where can I buy magic books?"
Dumbledore: "In Diagon Alley. I brought your list of books and school supplies. I can help you buy everything …"
Boy: "You want to go with me?"
Dumbledore: "Of course, if you …"
Boy: "I don't need …"
…
Five minutes later, the conversation ended, and there was the sound of the door closing upstairs.
Just when Hoffa thought that the first meeting between Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort was over, Dumbledore's voice sounded again.
"By the way, the child whose room you stole is also a wizard. If you're familiar with London, I hope you can help him."
Tom Riddle let out a sarcastic laugh. "Hoffa, him?"
Dumbledore did not reply, and closed the door and left.
…
Downstairs, Hoffa, who had heard all this, was completely paralyzed on the bed. He did not know whether to laugh or cry. There was no doubt that he had a talent for magic. Dumbledore had just tested his talent in a way that was completely unexpected.
No matter what happened in the novel, the current Dumbledore was much stronger and sharper than he had imagined. Perhaps it was because he was younger now.
And Lord Voldemort was far more terrifying than he had imagined. His predecessor was already dead. He was killed by the 11-year-old Tom Riddle, just for a room. If Dumbledore knew that he was facing an 11-year-old murderer, he probably would not have recruited him into Hogwarts.
He lay down on the bed with his arms and legs spread out, and sighed. Hoffa habitually wanted to take out his phone and send a WeChat message to complain about reality. But when he touched his pocket, he smiled bitterly.
It was now more than 70 years before Steve Jobs released the iPhone 4. That guy was probably still a single-celled organism. He should just give up on the idea of playing with his phone.
After sorting out his thoughts, Hoffa picked up the cat that was hanged by Tom Riddle, dug a hole in the corner of the orphanage, and buried it.
Looking at the bag in front of him piled up with small pebbles, Hoffa pressed his chest and said softly, "I will live well with your share."
Not long after, the sound of food being served came from the orphanage.
Hoffa adjusted his state of mind, and the gloomy expression on his face disappeared. He had a talent for magic, and it was very likely that he would study in Hogwarts. Wasn't this what he had dreamed of as a child in his previous life? Since this was the case, what was there to complain about?
…
There was only a piece of yellowed white bread, two slices of bacon, half a broccoli, and a glass of orange juice on the plate.
This was the first meal that Hoffa had in London in 1938. The food in the orphanage wasn't very good, and it was just enough to keep the children from going hungry.
In addition, the British cooks were notoriously perfunctory. Hoffa felt that the bacon in his mouth was unusually overcooked.
But before he could swallow the bacon in his mouth, a plate was placed in front of Hoffa.
Clang!
Hoffa looked up with half a piece of bacon in his mouth.
A tall boy with black hair, pale skin, and a very handsome appearance. At least, Hoffa thought that he was much more handsome than himself in this life. He was the kind of ordinary boy next door, and this boy was the kind of handsome that would attract talent scouts when he grew up.
"Your head healed quickly, Hoffa."
The boy squinted his eyes and said softly, as if he was looking at a new toy.
There was no doubt that the handsome boy in front of him was the famous Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was the real deal. The most powerful Dark Wizard in the history of European Magic, Lord Voldemort. Fifty years later, his name couldn't be mentioned.
Hoffa hated him.
No one liked an eleven-year-old child who dared to kill people and did anything to achieve his goals. And this child would never repent.
But Hoffa was an adult and didn't fear him. He wasn't Lord Voldemort yet, and no matter how powerful he was, he was still a child.
He swallowed the bacon in his mouth and stood up slowly. He looked at the young Lord Voldemort in front of him, and his heart was filled with emotions. What kind of person would turn this handsome face into the face of a snake?
"Get out of my way, Tom."
Hoffa said calmly, and his aura didn't lose to the boy at all.
Tom was stunned, and then his face suddenly turned pale. A red light flashed in his eyes, and he looked like a ferocious beast.
But then, something unexpected happened to Hoffa. He didn't rush over to beat him up, nor did he use magic. Instead, he smiled and leaned closer, as if the previous brutality was just an illusion.
"You and I are the same kind of people, Hoffa."
He pointed to the children eating dinner next to him and said softly, "People who are different from these idiots."
Hoffa was shocked.
He could only say that he was the young Lord Voldemort after all, the future hero of the generation. This kind of temperament was completely incomparable to an ordinary child. He pushed him off the cliff before, and now he was trying to build a relationship with him. No wonder he could pull together such a huge team of Death Eaters in the future.
To be honest, if he didn't know a little about the future, he would have been confused by his infectious smile.
Tom said, "If you are willing to be my friend, I can take you to a magical place."
After that, he even smiled and extended his left hand to Hoffa.
But Hoffa just sneered and glanced at the hand hanging in the air.
"I will go to the Hogwarts myself, but I will not hold a dirty hand that kills innocent animals."
As soon as he said that, Tom Riddle's little face was full of hatred.
The light bulbs on the ceiling of the orphanage all flickered, the air suddenly tightened, and the orange juice on the children's plates exploded. Loud cries!
Hoffa frowned. What a strong magical wave. Although he hadn't touched magic yet, just by instinct, he felt the terrifying talent of the other party.
Hoffa's face was pale, but he didn't retreat. He was just an ordinary person in his previous life. But he was also an ordinary person with his own persistence. Not to mention that this person was destined to fail, even if he succeeded, Hoffa would never hold his hand.
He retracted his hand.
The light bulbs on the ceiling returned to normal.
Mrs. Cole ran to the hall in a panic and comforted the crying children.
At this moment, Tom had returned to normal.
"I will watch you, Hoffa." He said lightly and turned to leave.
He said it calmly, but the murderous intent was undisguised.
Hoffa snorted, shook his head, and threw the remaining piece of bacon in his plate into his mouth.
Offending the Black Devil on the first day of his rebirth, he was really looking for death!
To be honest, Hoffa didn't like to offend people. The traditional Eastern education in his previous life taught him the importance of keeping a low profile, but it was also because of this that he couldn't wait to cut ties with Lord Voldemort.
Standing in line and making a fortune silently was the way of the king. Someone like him who had huge ambitions and went against the world without hiding it.
Even if his talent was 100 times stronger, he would still be killed, even if there was no Harry Potter.
Thinking of this, Hoffa couldn't help but shudder.
Although Lord Voldemort was destined to fail, he didn't want to be a sacrifice in the Wizard War.
This wasn't the era when Harry was born, and his father wasn't even born yet. He couldn't rely on the protagonist's halo to follow the savior. Not to mention understanding the trend of history and picking up scraps.
The Philosopher's Stone, the secret chamber, the Azkaban prisoners, those were things from half a century later …
Now he was in the dark.
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