Dumbledore had weathered too many storms in his lifetime. As dramatic as some moments had been, they could still be attributed to coincidence.
He wouldn't hastily judge a student just because of a familiar name or a similar past.
It took Dumbledore only a few seconds to return from his brief distraction. Facing the boy who still wore an impeccably polite smile, the old wizard stroked his beard to mask his lapse in attention and said gently:
"Mr. Lideer, I wouldn't say it's an honor—but it's certainly a curious twist of fate."
"Our Potions Master is unfortunately quite occupied. He was meant to be your welcoming professor, but his potion brewing has reached a critical phase, and he couldn't leave. So I'm afraid you'll have to make do with an old man like me."
"But you'll meet him soon enough. He's a true master of Potions—you'll learn a great deal under his guidance."
"Actually, Mr. Lideer, you yourself are a rather exceptional first-year student."
Dumbledore shifted the topic, now visibly intrigued. "You see, my colleagues and I have long experience introducing Muggle-born children to the wizarding world. But you accepted the existence of magic remarkably quickly. In fact, I believe you're the first I've ever seen take it in stride so easily."
"Usually, we must employ a bit of persuasion. For example—this."
With a snap of his fingers, the scattered books on the writing desk flew into the air and neatly stacked themselves in order.
"Mr. Lideer, did it not cross your mind to wonder if all this might be some elaborate trick?"
But Tangmu met the old man's clear blue eyes without hesitation. Calmly, he extended his palm.
"To be honest, magic has always been around me."
From the bookcase, a thick volume of Grimm's Fairy Tales trembled slightly, then a golden-edged envelope slipped from within and floated neatly into Tangmu's waiting hand—the very same Hogwarts acceptance letter he had received just the day before.
Tangmu toyed with the envelope, explaining, "Since I was six, I noticed strange abilities awakening in me. But I never believed I was one of a kind. Surely there are others like me in the world."
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Dumbledore applauded enthusiastically, his praise generous and sincere. "Wonderful. Truly wonderful. Such excellent control!"
"But Mr. Lideer, you're mistaken about one thing. Someone like you, who can cast spells through sheer willpower even before entering school, is exceedingly rare, even in our world."
"Believe me—your magical future holds great promise."
It was normal for young witches and wizards to experience uncontrolled magical outbursts. In fact, if they didn't, they were considered Squibs—born without magic.
But those outbursts were usually chaotic and brief, their power lying dormant until formally trained with a wand. What Tangmu had just demonstrated was anything but accidental—it was controlled, precise, and clearly practiced.
Dumbledore was indeed glad that Hogwarts would gain such a promising student.
But deep in his heart, a familiar unease stirred.
He's similar. More and more similar...
"You flatter me, sir. I just happened to be lucky." Tangmu lowered his head shyly, adopting an expression of modesty—though inside, he was quietly relieved.
One hurdle down.
Tangmu was a transmigrator.
When his magic first erupted at the age of six, it awakened memories from his past life.
At first, Tangmu didn't realize he was in the world of Harry Potter. That changed in his third year of primary school when he entered math competitions—where he met a sharp young girl named Hemin Gelanjie.
When he later learned that Miss Gelanjie's father was a dentist, his mind went blank.
Was this the Wizarding World of Harry Potter?
His current name in this world carried a far heavier weight than most.
Tangmu Mawoluo Lideer.
That name was none other than Voldemort.
He had considered changing his name. But as a minor, changing both his given name and surname legally required coming of age. And even then, would a new name be properly linked to Hogwarts' registry? Would the magical world allow it?
It wasn't a gamble he could afford.
This was the beautiful, dangerous Wizarding World. Tangmu had no intention of risking his invitation.
So, carrying that fateful name, he had lived quietly until now—and just two days ago, he finally received his long-awaited Hogwarts acceptance letter.
He hadn't expected the one sent to welcome him would be Albus Dumbledore in person, rather than Hagrid or Professor McGonagall.
But he understood why. To Dumbledore, the name Tangmu Lideer was far too significant.
Especially with the uncanny parallels in their life stories—of course Dumbledore would want to confirm firsthand whether Voldemort had somehow been reborn.
That subtle question earlier had been Tangmu's first real test.
Why wasn't he shocked by the existence of magic?
Tangmu had considered pretending to be surprised, but he doubted he could fool Dumbledore. The man was over a hundred years old, a veteran of war, and a master of both wisdom and wit.
Instead, he chose to face it head-on—openly demonstrating his magical talent and using it as his reason.
It was a gamble, of course.
A gamble on Dumbledore's integrity—that he wouldn't use Legilimency to pry into his mind and label him a threat based on a name alone.
And if he had gambled wrong? Well, he'd come clean, confess everything, and perhaps even witness Dumbledore speedrun his way through seven Horcruxes.
Although what happened after that—like being studied for magical research—wasn't something Tangmu wanted to dwell on.
Luckily, he'd won the bet.
Dumbledore was, at the very least, still Dumbledore—no rash moves, no invasive magic.
"Mr. Lideer, I must admit I didn't expect today to go so smoothly."
Dumbledore stood, offering a kindly invitation. "It's still early. Why don't we seize the moment and get all your supplies at once? As it happens, I need to visit Diagon Alley myself today."
"Of course, Professor. Please give me a moment."
Tangmu nodded, stepping to his desk. From the drawer, he retrieved a small stack of cash—mostly ten-pound and five-pound notes.
In the UK, the fifty-pound note is the highest denomination, even decades later. But using one for a small purchase—like at a corner shop—could earn you suspicious looks and sharp words.
"Mr. Lideer."
Dumbledore seemed to recall something, his tone suddenly warm. "For students from difficult circumstances, Hogwarts and the Ministry offer a grant program. A full loan, no repayment required."
"But Professor, I'm not in any difficulty, am I?"
Tangmu counted out the notes—£1,200 in total—and gave Dumbledore a small, easy smile as he waved the money.
Three essentials to being a good student: read, collect, and donate generously!