(Dumbledore's POV)
After defeating my old lover, Gellert Grindelwald, I thought there would never again rise another darkness so great. I was wrong.
I first met Tom Riddle in that dreary orphanage — a boy of remarkable intellect and unnerving calm. He was polite, even charming, but beneath those eyes, I saw something... coiled. A darkness that watched and waited. I told myself that if I kept an eye on him, guided him, perhaps that shadow could be turned toward the light.
When I later learned he was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, I understood why he fascinated and unsettled me in equal measure. Even as a first-year, he gathered influence. By his third, all of Slytherin seemed to obey his every word.
Yet, strangely, his reign over them brought order. The house became polite, almost noble. The other professors praised him. I thought perhaps he was changing. Perhaps, I told myself, he was good.
I even took him as a private pupil, teaching him Transfiguration and the subtler laws of magic. I wanted to believe my trust was not misplaced.
But duty tore me away — Grindelwald's terror still spread across Europe, and I was forever chasing the embers he left behind. When I returned in Tom's sixth year, I saw brilliance in its purest, most dangerous form.
He called me his mentor. I almost believed him.
Then came my final battle with Grindelwald. I barely survived — victory owed more to fortune than power. I took the Elder Wand from him and locked away that secret. When I returned, Tom had graduated. He declined every offer the Ministry and I arranged for him, and simply... vanished.
Years passed. My spies reported he traveled through France, Germany, Egypt — always seeking, always learning. I heard rumors of research facilities he funded, and his friends — many from powerful magical families — began moving in ways that troubled me.
Still, I was occupied. The Ministry showered me with titles and responsibilities I neither wanted nor sought. And so, I watched Tom's shadow grow at the edges of my vision.
When next he appeared, it was to ask me for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. I was Headmaster by then. His eyes — gods, his eyes glowed red. I refused him, as gently as I could.
After that, every Defense teacher I hired lasted less than a year. Accidents, curses, insanity — one by one, they fell.
Tom Riddle disappeared again. Then he reemerged, claiming descent not only from Salazar Slytherin but from Merlin himself. The wizarding world adored him. He published research papers of staggering brilliance, discovered new magical laws, and earned accolades — Grand Sorcerer, High Warlock, Order of Merlin First Class. His fame grew. His influence spread.
He became the people's hero.
For a time, even I thought he had turned from darkness.
But the moment I saw that headline, I knew otherwise.
"Dumbledore — The Dark Schemer Behind Britain's Suffering!"
They accused me of everything — compulsion charms, love potions, forbidden rituals. They called the Order of the Phoenix a terrorist faction. And the worst part? The public believed it.
Because Tom controlled the Daily Prophet.
Soon after, his Death Eaters were painted as saviors — heroes rescuing people from "my corruption." He even kidnapped the Prime Minister, only to "miraculously" return him weeks later.
I had no evidence, only my word. Against Tom's popularity, my word was worthless.
So we fought.
That battle… I will never forget it.
Despite his youth, despite my centuries of knowledge, he matched me. No — he pressed me. His mastery of dark arts was unlike anything I'd seen. Only my experience and the Elder Wand gave me the slightest edge.
But even so… the duel ended in a draw.
I realized then that Tom was not just another dark wizard. He was something new. Something worse.
In the following year, his Death Eaters continued their campaigns, growing bolder. Then the Muggle world changed. England itself shifted under his unseen hand. When I finally reached the Prime Minister, he was surrounded by Death Eaters — bound by a ritual so complex even I could not undo it without destroying the man's mind.
I had to retreat.
And then, one day, I looked upon Tom again — and I saw it. He hadn't aged a day. Still nineteen. Still young. Still smiling.
That was when I understood. Horcruxes. He must have created one — or more.
I began my search. But before I could make progress, the attacks began again. Azkaban burned for weeks. The Ministry's wards flickered. I fought to contain chaos, never realizing the truth until it was too late.
Tom had used the chaos as a smokescreen.
While we fought shadows, he took the Ministry itself.
He walked into the Atrium and slew the Minister before the eyes of hundreds. They say he fought a hundred Aurors and stood triumphant.
And now… he rules them all.
The Ministry has fallen. Azkaban follows him. The Daily Prophet sings his praises. The people worship him.
I, Albus Dumbledore, once hailed as the greatest wizard alive, can do nothing but retreat to Hogwarts — the last bastion untouched by his rule.
And as I watch his shadow spread across England, I cannot help but wonder…
Was this my failure from the beginning?
Did I create the monster I sought to save?