Chapter Two

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Harry sat down on one of the armchairs, feeling as if his legs won't support him. Merope looked much the same as she did while alive. She also looked thoroughly miserable.

"Er... Why are you here?" He asked now.

"I came to see the wizard known as Dumbledore," said Merope, her fingers lacing and unlacing. "I want his help."

"Er... You're a ghost. What help can you want?" Harry cursed himself. He did not mean to be so insensitive.

"I know I am dead," she whispered. "The help I require is not for me. I want him to help my son."

Harry leapt up. "Help Voldemort?" His voice was like a whiplash and Merope flinched.

Harry felt ashamed of himself, seeing that flinch.

"Please," Merope whispered. "It is not his fault. I did it to him. You must help me! You must take me to Dumbledore!"

"What do you mean it is your fault?" Harry was feeling suddenly angry. "What did you do to make him a murderer? What did you do to turn him dark?"

He conveniently ignored the small voice in his mind that reminded him that he had thought just a few minutes before that had Merope chosen to live for her son, Voldemort might have turned out differently.

"I did nothing," she whispered. "Don't you understand? I did nothing for him! Not one thing! I left him in a muggle orphanage! I... I never thought how it would be for him.... I just left him...."

"You died." Said Harry. "I hardly think you had a choice."

She shook her head. "Magic prolongs our lives; if I had wanted to live, I might have, but I did not want to! I might have done better to have died before his birth! But I left him alone with a curse!"

"You," Harry began and stopped. "What curse?"

Merope gulped. "Please take me to Dumbledore. You cannot help me."

"I am not taking you anywhere till you explain what you meant. What curse?"

"I..." She gave a start. "I have to go. I can't stay!"

She vanished.

Harry sat, staring at the place where she had been. Had he dreamt the whole thing? He shook his head. He had better go back to bed. It was just past midnight. Perhaps in the morning, he might be able to make sense of what happened.

He headed back up towards the dormitory, putting his cloak back on almost absently. A noise from the stairs stopped him short.

Ron stepped into view, lit wand held aloft. He looked worried.

"Harry?" He whispered. "You there?"

Harry pulled off his cloak. "I'm here, Ron."

Ron sighed. "What were you doing here? I thought I heard you shouting. Thats what woke me. And when I went to see what's wrong, you were not in your bed!"

Harry shook his head. "I just had a weird experience. And even now I'm not certain if it was real or if I was hallucinating."

Ron looked scared. "Do you think," he swallowed. "I mean, is You-know-who sending you visions again?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. But I'll tell you all about it at breakfast. I don't want to explain it again to Hermione."

Ron nodded. "Let's head back to bed then."

Contrary to his own expectations, Harry fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

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