 |  |
"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.
"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov — awaiting your return. Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post." There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.
"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore." "Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom . .
." Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want." Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want. On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much." "Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom. Why not try an open request for once." Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job —"
| |
|
