Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

102. revirida.

"Do you believe -" started Antheia.

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "As of now, however, that is not my concern. I wonder, Antheia, whether you have or have not practiced, or at least tried, the power involving your prophecy?"

Antheia stared blankly back at him. She felt quite guilty for letting such an important thing escape her mind.

"No, Professor ..." she admitted. Dumbledore did not look put off by this.

"Understandable, of course, with your added schoolwork," said Dumbledore softly. "However, I must insist that you explore your abilities very soon. Perhaps starting small, with a flower, or an insect. I recommend asking Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley for assistance with this, if you think that would be helpful."

"I do, sir."

"Remember the spell 'revirida' that you must use," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, Antheia, is our lesson."

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve, and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man, revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along ... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry indignantly.

"What do you mean, 'only'?" snapped Antheia.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore, continuing as if he had not heard them. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"Couldn't she do magic?" said Antheia. "She could've gotten whatever she needed with magic, right?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief - I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right - that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."