Chapter 334: Choice

“You must return these items to their owners and apologize to them.”

Professor Dumbledore said calmly,

“I will know if you do it, and I warn you: Hogwarts does not tolerate theft.”

Riddle’s face showed no shame. He stared coldly at Dumbledore, as if weighing him.

Finally, he said in a dry voice:

“Understood, sir.”

Beside Wizard Sean, the white-haired Dumbledore’s voice was calm:

“And then there is the second choice: how to face your own actions.”

The scene flowed again—

Riddle placed the small pile of stolen goods back into the cardboard box, his expression still blank.

After finishing, he turned and said bluntly to Dumbledore:

“I have no money.”

“That is easily solved.”

Dumbledore pulled a leather money pouch from his pocket,

“Hogwarts has a fund specifically for students who need help buying textbooks and robes. Some of your magical books may have to be secondhand, but—”

“Where do you buy magical books?”

Riddle interrupted Dumbledore, took the pouch without so much as a thank-you, and examined a thick gold Galleon closely.

Both Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dumbledore wore expressions of profound gravity.

The white-haired Headmaster Dumbledore spoke after a long silence:

“Finally, there is the choice of how to face temptation.”

At that moment, the memory’s image shattered like bubbles.

A few seconds later, Wizard Sean felt himself floating lightly again through darkness, then landed steadily back in the real-world office.

He was still dazed from the detachment—Thought Vessel always had this effect.

“Time is playing tricks on us,”

Dumbledore pointed to the dark sky outside the window,

“Goodbye, child.”

Wizard Sean froze. Had Headmaster Dumbledore just shown him Voldemort’s childhood, yet said nothing at the end?

As he looked over, Headmaster Dumbledore smiled warmly:

“Yes, I hope you didn’t doze off and miss the last point, Wizard Sean—Young Tom Riddle liked collecting trophies.

You saw that box of stolen goods he hid in his room. They were taken from children he bullied—essentially, mementos of particularly vile magical tricks.

I assume you’ve read that book; if you had any questions, perhaps you now have some answers.

As for what I wanted to say, child… choose your life with care. But I must say, no one does this better than you.”

The door to the Headmaster’s office closed.

Dumbledore stood by the window: different choices always lead stories down different paths.

The deeper silver threads within the Thought Vessel held entirely different scenes.

A classroom on the fourth floor, a secret chamber underground, the vanished Untraceable Expansion Bag, and the newly risen Children’s Home.

His beard curled upward, as if recalling something delightful.

…

As Wizard Sean stepped out of the Headmaster’s office, he continued to ponder.

It seemed Headmaster Dumbledore had uncovered Voldemort’s secret of Horcruxes, and “The Most Toxic Magic” was likely permitted by him for Wizard Sean to study.

This meant the plot had not changed much—even when it shifted, it moved in the right direction.

And that was exactly what he wanted to see.

Avoiding the excited young wizards on patrol, Wizard Sean walked a little faster; the proficiency needed for Soul Shifting to reach [Skilled] was nearly complete. Soon, he could resolve the fragment of Voldemort’s soul inside Harry.

But what were the young wizards doing?

Wizard Sean focused slightly and effortlessly saw the black cat portrait in their hands.

Wizard Sean, about to practice Soul Shifting: “...”

That night, the snow that had begun in the morning turned into a fierce blizzard; thick, dark flakes swirled through the sky, sealing every window, making the castle far darker than usual.

One black cat eventually found a place to rest; its ears twitched, still hearing the cheerful footsteps of young wizards racing down the lower corridors.

Fortunately, the fourth-floor corridor was nearly empty; most young wizards had gathered near the black cat statue.

Beneath the statue now lay piles of offerings; sometimes the black cat felt this was all too strange.

After quietly moving away the offerings, the next batch would only grow larger, so it gave up in resignation.

Aside from the recent rumors spread by the Castle Cat Club, another rumor had become popular at Hogwarts since morning.

“Ah, it’s the silly baby Potter! What’s Potter doing? Why is Potter sneaking around—oh, Potter, you nasty brat, look what you did, you controlled a snake and thought it was funny—”

The black cat’s ears twitched, hearing a strange sound.

It was Peeves, cackling as it bounced and skipped past Harry on the fourth floor, knocking his glasses askew.

“Get lost, Peeves! The Bloody Baron’s coming!”

Harry shouted; Peeves hastily retreated, but still stuck out its tongue at Harry.

“I’m not like him, and I certainly don’t belong in Slytherin!”

After Peeves left, Harry shouted loudly.

Since leaving the Headmaster’s office, he had felt a fear he couldn’t explain.

“I’m in Gryffindor…”

A voice inside him whispered.

“But the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin.”

Almost immediately, another voice countered.

These two voices had argued for hours, making Harry want to throw himself into the thin-iced Black Lake.

In his agitation, Harry saw a shadow flash past—familiar, unmistakable. He rubbed his eyes quickly:

“Mr. Black Cat!”

He called out.

It was the Castle Cat of Hogwarts—the one who knew about Voldemort’s diary. Perhaps it could answer his questions!

But the shadow was already gone; he could only lower his head in disappointment.

That night, Harry lay awake for hours. Through the gaps in his bed curtains, he watched snowflakes drift past the castle windows, his heart empty and lost.

In the gray-white world, he finally drifted into a drowsy sleep.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a hazy space; on the familiar “Children’s Home” sign, a black cat was calmly arranging its tail with its paw.

“Mr. Black Cat!”

Harry cried out in delight.

The black cat nodded with human-like understanding.

“You know—”

At that moment, Harry had too many words, and none would come out.

The black cat wasn’t in a hurry; it seemed still focused on taming its tail.

Busy today, six chapters tomorrow