"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 322: Doug, I'm Leaving Tom to You
Douglas sat leisurely at the table, unfazed by Dumbledore's probing. He simply continued to spread jam with meticulous care across his toast. Only after taking a slow, thoughtful bite did he reply, unhurried:
"Every novel needs a cast of characters. If you want readers to feel truly immersed, you have to immerse yourself while writing. By slipping into Tom's perspective and piecing together the clues, I can naturally deduce some of his actions.
Of course, it's all just deduction. People are unpredictable. That's why I used a few tricks—like making Wormtail my unwitting tracker. With more information, my predictions get a lot sharper."
Dumbledore considered this, nodding slightly. It all made sense—so far, everything Douglas had done was a logical response to what he already knew.
Still, his voice grew gentle but carried that quiet, unyielding authority:
"Doug, taking on Voldemort's perspective is dangerous. I worry it could leave cracks in your mind, let other personalities take root, and in the end, you might lose yourself. Don't think I'm exaggerating. You know as well as I do—magic is unpredictable. If you immerse yourself too deeply, you could resonate with his soul, and he might glimpse your thoughts."
Douglas ｡◔‸◔｡ "Professor..."
He sipped his tea, letting the warmth steady him. There was no way he could share the real reason, but Dumbledore wasn't wrong either. He'd read about this in forbidden magic—"thought assimilation." It required a high level of soul synchronization.
Once there's soul resonance, the weaker can borrow the stronger's magic, or the stronger can outright take over the weaker's body—not like Voldemort's parasitism, but full possession. In ecclesiastical magic, this was called the "Archangel Descent," and was typically only passed down within the Church.
Dumbledore rose and strolled to the window, gazing out over the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts. Students milled about in cheerful clusters, their laughter drifting on the breeze—a living tapestry of hope.
"Tom's soul is steeped in evil and division. He murders, he manipulates. His mind is a bottomless swamp of darkness—once you're caught, escaping is nearly impossible."
Behind him, Douglas blinked in curiosity. Was Dumbledore really worried, or just seizing the chance for a teachable moment? Should he play along? After all, he wasn't actually channeling Voldemort's thoughts.
He furrowed his brow, as if lost in memory:
"The first time I tried to step into his shoes, I did feel that chill. His childhood loneliness, the fury of abandonment—they gnawed at my heart like vipers. But I held onto my own core. Every time I finish a deduction, I wash my soul with pure kindness and love. Like rinsing blood from my hands with clear water."
Dumbledore turned, his gaze searching Douglas's face for something. After a long pause, he spoke softly:
"Always remember—this is Hogwarts, a place built on love and hope. Never let darkness take root in your heart. If you ever feel overwhelmed, promise me you'll come to me."
Douglas nodded solemnly.
"I will, Headmaster. Everything I do is to weave a stronger shield around Hogwarts and its students. When Voldemort returns, I want us to have every possible advantage—to keep laughter echoing in these halls."
At that, Dumbledore's expression shifted. He winked mischievously.
"So you agree? Then from now on, all things Tom are yours to handle."
Seeing Douglas's stunned look, Dumbledore scooped up a spoonful of honey and popped it into his mouth, grinning with childlike satisfaction.
"You didn't actually think I was worried you'd resonate with Tom's soul, did you? Very few people ever master Occlumency as well as you have."
Douglas rolled his eyes. So, they'd both been acting. Whether Dumbledore believed his explanation or not—it didn't really matter anymore.
"Fine, I'll take the job. So, Professor, what's your next move?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts. With you here, the place feels more alive than ever. I think, after I'm gone, my epitaph should include 'great educator.' What do you think?"
Douglas raised his teacup in salute. "Sure—just as long as you sort out the Slytherin situation with the other Houses first. Then you'll be the greatest educator since the founding of Hogwarts."
Dumbledore (*￣rǒ￣)
A glint of curiosity flashed in his eyes as he leaned forward.
"But I'm still curious—what do you think Tom will do next? After this scare, will he abandon the resurrection ritual? Maybe he'll just hide out somewhere until I'm dead?"
Douglas smirked.
"Why not fake your death? Like Fawkes, go for a fiery rebirth and give him another shock?"
On the perch behind them, Fawkes—busily devouring a special chili sauce—gave a startled burp and shot out a jet of flame.
Dumbledore stared at Douglas, his gaze so deep it almost looked like he was seriously entertaining the idea.
That startled Douglas. He quickly waved his hands.
"Just kidding, Professor! It's only Voldemort—no need to get so worked up. Besides, his soul's already unstable. If we scare him any more, he might snap completely. That'd be even harder to deal with.
At least the Tom we have now is still rational. That's safer than a completely unhinged Dark Lord, right?
Still, I'd love to see his reaction to my little surprises. Professor, hurry up and eat—I want to borrow your Pensieve."
After lunch, Dobby whisked away the dishes with practiced efficiency.
Dumbledore fetched the Pensieve from his cabinet and drew out last night's memories, placing them into the swirling basin.
Inside, Douglas saw Voldemort in his infant form, the events of the previous night unfolding—the shadowy old manor, flickering magical light, Voldemort's twisted, unwilling face, and his panicked reaction at the tombstone.
(Wormtail: Does anyone even care about me?)
When Douglas emerged from the Pensieve, he frowned. "He's in better shape than I expected."
Dumbledore nodded. "True. Even if that body can't move, it's a lot better than when he was riding around in Quirinus Quirrell. So, want to see where Tom's hiding now?"
He glanced expectantly at Douglas's bottomless pockets, clearly hoping for another round of magical gadgetry. He always found Douglas's wariness around him amusing.
But instead, he saw Douglas still staring intently at the Pensieve.
"What is it? Did something occur to you?"
Staring at the swirling memories, inspiration struck Douglas like a bolt of lightning.
He'd figured out how to make movies for the wizarding world. Before, he'd only thought of having Sirius modify Muggle cameras and projectors for magical use. But he'd never considered starting with memories.
Memory magic wasn't just about extracting thoughts—you could edit and implant them, too.
If he could crack the memory projection problem, anyone with enough experience could create entirely new, artificial memories, edit them, and play them back.
No need for actors or expensive magical props...
Dumbledore's question snapped him back. Douglas's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Professor, I think it's time for the wizarding world to have a brand-new profession. It'd be a huge help for teaching at Hogwarts, too. Want to invest?"
Dumbledore blinked, caught off guard. "Weren't we just talking about Tom?"
Douglas shrugged. "Is he really that important?"
Dumbledore chuckled, blinking.
"Well, not anymore—I've already left him in your capable hands. Actually, I'm far more interested in this magical device of yours. How does it compare to your magical radar? Should I get involved? You know, I do have some talent for alchemy..."
🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 [Join on - patreon.com/GoldenLong]