•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
"I don't know how he can trust that book when it could probably be Dark magic!" Hermione exclaimed frustratedly to Deanna when they were in the library. Deanna was trying to read Beauty and the Beast while Hermione was doing her homework. Hermione was extremely frustrated that Harry was outdoing her in Potions. She didn't mind that Deanna had been doing the same since she knew that Deanna was a genius in Potions. Not because she was completely in love with the girl.
"Well, it was an old book. It could have been a student's. I hope it's not that dangerous though." Deanna supplied though a frown made its way onto her face.
At first, she thought that it could have been Tom's book since it was old and it had the same instructions that he would tell Deanna, but she read the handwriting. Tom wrote neatly and his handwriting was not even close to that of the Half-Blood Prince's. She thought then that it may have been one of his Death Eaters, but she just hoped not.
"Anyways, Hermione..." Deanna started in a small voice. "Would you like something soft or something shiny?"
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at that. "What?"
"I-I mean..." Deanna stuttered, not knowing how to ask her what she wanted without literally asking her that. She wanted to keep it as a surprise, and she wanted to make it special as well. "1 or 2?"
"1?" Hermione answered unsurely. She didn't understand what Deanna was trying to ask, but her doubts were somehow taken away when Deanna grinned widely at her like an excited puppy.
"Aren't you going to do your homework?" Hermione asked when she noticed that Deanna had only the book of Beauty and the Beast out and no parchment and ink with her.
"I'll just do it later. I want to give you all my attention." The words came out of Deanna's mouth before she could stop herself from saying that. She and Hermione looked at each other with wide eyes, both of their faces darkening.
"I-I mean, I want to give this book all my attention." Deanna hastily made up an excuse, and she kept her eyes on the book, giving her mouth a smack for what she had just said. On the other hand, Hermione had her eyes on the Hufflepuff. She felt a little disappointed that Deanna had changed what she said.
Deanna suddenly stood up and she took a deep breath before meeting Hermione's eyes. "I-I loved Beauty and the Beast when I was a kid. I love it more even now because you remind me of Belle. G-Good night." She quickly ran away from the library, leaving a flustered Hermione staring after her.
"W-What?" Hermione whispered while staring at the doorway where Deanna had just ran through. Then, a smile spread on her face and she picked up the book that Deanna had left behind. Did that mean she was a princess in Deanna's eyes? She felt thankful there were not that much people in the library because she honestly looked like an idiot by the way she was smiling and looking at the book and fixing her hair.
Deanna finally stopped running when she was a good distance away from the library. She panted and banged her head against the wall lightly. "Why? Why? Why?"
"Why are you banging your head here, looking like a crazy person?" A voice from behind her made her jump and she looked behind her to see that it was only Ron with a broom in hand.
Deanna took in a deep breath and smiled at him. "Hey, Ron. It's nothing, just my stupid mouth."
"Why? Did you say something?" Ron asked with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am. Just..." Deanna put a hand to her heart that she realized was beating too fast until now. Of all the things she could say, she just had to compare Hermione to a princess. It wasn't like she was lying, but still... How could she be that careless?
"Hey, Ron." Deanna suddenly said. "Do you think Hermione would like a stuffed toy? Her birthday's coming up soon."
"Oh, Dee." Ron ruffled her hair good-naturedly. "If it's from you, Hermione would like it. Even if you gave her parchment, it would be fine for her."
"Really?" Deanna smiled slightly at that, but remembering their last Potions class made her frown. "But doesn't she like someone?"
"I don't know." Ron smirked when there was slight hope on Deanna's face. "Why don't you ask her? Maybe, you'll get an answer you like."
"W-What?" Deanna stuttered, her cheeks getting redder because she suddenly imagined Hermione telling her that she liked Deanna. It made her heart speed up once more. "What are you saying?"
"It's obvious, Dee. You like Hermione." Ron's words made Deanna blush even more if that was possible. "It's not like you're trying to hide it anyways."
"W-What?"
"What I mean is... we know you like Hermione." Ron started carefully. He didn't want to scare off Deanna. "And maybe, you should take a chance and tell her what you feel."
"I-I... don't know." Deanna let out a sigh and slid down the wall.
"Hey, I'm not telling you to confess now." Ron patted her on the shoulder gently. "I just wanted to tell you that you can tell her when you're ready. It's not easy to tell someone what you feel."
"You're right. Thanks, Ron." Deanna nudged him affectionately. "So when are you going to tell Eleanor what you really feel for her?"
Ron froze for a moment and this time, he was the one letting out a sigh. "I don't know, Deanna. I don't think she likes me that way."
"Why not?" Deanna frowned at that.
"I mean, she's dating Seamus Finnigan now." Ron frowned and shook his head. "I've never told anyone, but I do like her. I-I'm in love with her." His eyes widened and he looked at Deanna with surprise. "I'm in love with her."
"Yeah, you are." Deanna squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. She knew that it was hard to realize what you felt for someone after all this time. So she stood up and reached out a hand to the frozen Ron. "How about we talk it over a game of Quidditch, yeah?"
"Yeah, thanks Dee." Ron took her hand and gave her a grateful hug. He may have been shocked by what he had just realized, but he had Deanna to talk to. And maybe, this was what he needed to finally tell Eleanor Edmonton what he felt for her since they were children.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
"Hey, Harry." Deanna met him at the stairs going to her father's office. "Are you ready for the lesson?"
"Yeah, do you know what it's about?" Harry asked her, earning a shake of the head from Deanna.
"Oh, right." Deanna suddenly said. "Harry, about Draco Malfoy..." As she promised Harry, Deanna started keeping her eye on the Malfoy boy. "I heard from Alexander that he had a fight with his dorm mates."
Harry's eyes widened at that. "What? Why?"
"I don't know but this just raises my suspicions. Anyways, I'll try to find out more. Don't worry." Deanna tugged on his sleeve and opened the door to reveal Dumbledore with a smile on his face.
"Hello, love. Harry. Sit down." Dumbledore said pleasantly.
"I'll just put my stuff down, Pops." Deanna excused herself to put her things in her room while Dumbledore and Harry conversed. Deanna gave the sleeping Fawkes a kiss on the top of his head and took out something from her closet. She gave it a little tap and put it back with a soft smile. This should be fine.
"So, what are we doing, Pops?" Deanna asked once she got down.
"Ah, yes, love. As I've explained to Harry, we will be learning about... Voldemort's past." Dumbledore paused to look at her reaction and when she simply nodded, he smiled and continued. "We shall journey into memories and what we will learn today will certainly help both you and Harry in your journey."
Deanna nodded once more, and Dumbledore stood up and walked past them to take out the familiar Pensieve. Deanna kept silent while looking at it. She knew about Voldemort's past but she did not know the details because she didn't want to force him to open up to her when he was clearly uncomfortable about it.
"You look worried." Dumbledore said to Harry who was indeed looking at the Pensieve with worry. He smiled at the two teenagers. "This time, you enter the Pensieve with me and Deanna and, even more unusually, with permission."
"Where are we going, sir?"
"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.
"Who was Bob Ogden, Pops?"
"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry, Deanna..."
But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: His injured hand seemed stiff and painful. "Let me do it, Pops." Deanna reached over for the bottle and she took off the cork and poured the substance into the basin. "How did you injure your hand anyways?"
Dumbledore smiled slightly at his daughter's actions. "Now is not the moment for that story, little phoenix. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden. Now, after you."
Deanna motioned Harry to go first, and then she looked at his father. "Come on, Pops. Hold onto me."
"That I will, love." Dumbledore held onto Deanna's arm with his left hand and the two of them went into the Pensieve together. Deanna saw Harry beside her, and they were watching a short man with thick eyeglasses walking down this country lane. It must have been Bob Ogden.
They followed him down the steep and rough road, through the forest and to an old house. It didn't seem like a house at all because there was moss all over the walls and the tiles had fallen off the roof. The only sign that someone lived there was the stream from one of the windows that had just opened.
Ogden moved to the door when suddenly a man in rags and missing teeth landed in front of him with a knife in one hand and a wand in the other, making Ogden stumble. "You're not welcome." The unknown man was frightening indeed.
Ogden moved away before he spoke. "Er — good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic —"
"You're not welcome."
"Er — I'm sorry — I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously. Deanna wondered why was Ogden saying that when it was clear what the frightening man was saying.
"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry, love?" said Dumbledore quietly.
"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden — ? He's speaking Parseltongue."
"Very good." Dumbledore smiled proudly.
"You mean the language of the snakes?" Deanna asked with wide eyes. But she couldn't understand what Tom had been saying before. Why could she understand now?
"Later, love." Dumbledore rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'll explain later."
"Now, look —" Ogden began, but the man had already cast a spell on him. Yellowish goo squirted from his fingers.
"Morfin!" This time, an old man came out of the cottage and he swung the door behind him. He stopped beside Morfin who was laughing at the sight of Ogden. "Ministry, is it?"
"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?" Deanna's eyes widened in realization. This old man was Tom's grandfather... Marvolo Gaunt.
"S'right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"
"Yes, he did!" snapped Ogden.
"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."
"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.
"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."
Ogden pointed his wand at his nose and the flow of yellow pus stopped. Mr. Gaunt spoke to Morfin in Parseltongue. "Get in the house. Don't argue." Morfin looked as if he wanted to argue, but Gaunt's look was threatening and he slammed the door as he went.
"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"
"Ar, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive. Deanna frowned at Gaunt's question. She could now see the similarities between him and his grandson.
"That's neither here nor there," said Ogden coldly.
Gaunt spoke in an offensive tone. "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."
"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them," said Ogden. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"
"Inside?"
"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl —"
"I've no use for owls," said Gaunt. "I don't open letters."
"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning —"
"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"
Morfin was sitting in an armchair beside the fire. He was twisting a live adder between his fingers and crooning in Parseltongue. "Hissy, hissy, little snakey. Slither on the floor. You be good to Morfin. Or he'll nail you to the door."
A sudden noise in the corner beside the window made Deanna look in that direction. She let out a little gasp once she noticed her. She immediately know who it was. It was...
"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.
"Good morning," said Ogden.
Merope Gaunt, Tom Riddle's mother, did not answer and she turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her. Deanna watched her with a look of sadness. She shook her head slightly and looked back at Ogden, Gaunt and Morfin.
"Well, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."
There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.
"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at her. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"
"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice. Merope flushed in embarrassment and drew her wand to make it float up but instead it hit the wall and cracked in two.
Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"
But Ogden beat Merope to it. "Reparo."
The pot mended itself and Gaunt glared at Ogden before scoffing at Merope. "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs..."
Deanna's eyes widened while she watched Merope pick up the pot and return it to the shelf. She was a Squib? All she knew about Tom's past was his mother's name and his grandfather's. All she knew about her father was that he left them and according to Tom, he left them when he wasn't even born yet, and she understood the hate he had for his father, but she never knew that Merope Gaunt had a life like this.
"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit —"
"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him — what about it, then?"
"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Ogden sternly.
"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"
"Yes," said Ogden. "I'm afraid it is." He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.
"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily. "It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —"
"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"
"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Ogden.
"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, pointing a finger at Ogden's chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?
"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.
"That's right!" roared Gaunt, and he was showing off the black-stoned ring he wore on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"
"I've really no idea," said Ogden, blinking, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed —" Now, Gaunt was dragging Merope by the gold chain around her neck towards Ogden. Deanna was about to intervene when she remembered it was a memory. She couldn't do anything even if she wanted to.
"See this?" Gaunt bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.
"I see it, I see it!" said Ogden hastily.
"Slytherin's!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"
"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope. Deanna made her way to the girl. She reached her hand out trying to held her massage her neck that had marked, but she let out a sigh and just sat down beside the girl.
"So!" said Gaunt triumphantly. "Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of purebloods, wizards all — more than you can say, I don't doubt!" He spat at Ogden's feet and Morfin cackled again.
"Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information" — he glanced down at his
scroll of parchment — "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives." Morfin giggled.
"Be quiet, boy," snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.
"And so what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden. "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot —"
"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenseless —"
"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.
"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Ogden firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Mugg —"
Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her head. Deanna saw that she was pale.
"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"
"It's not ours," said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village —"
The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair.
"Keep your seat," said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.
"Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong — but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"
"Good lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son, I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling." The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.
"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. " 'Darling,' he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway." Deanna looked at Merope in alarm. Tom... Tom Riddle Jr. Then, that meant the Tom who was outside was Tom Riddle Sr. Tom's father that he hated so much.
"What's that?" said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. "What did you say, Morfin?"
"She likes looking at that Muggle," said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. "Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night —"
Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly, "Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home, wasn't she?"
"Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" said Gaunt quietly. He started advancing towards Merope while speaking in a deadly voice. "Is it true? My daughter — pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin — hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"
Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.
"But I got him, Father!" cackled Morfin. "I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"
"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!" roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.
Ogden and Harry yelled "No!" while Deanna tried pulling Gaunt away but her hands just passed through him. Ogden raised his wand and cried, "Relashio!" Gaunt was thrown backward while Morfin, holding his knife and his wand, ran at Ogden who ran for his life. Dumbledore pushed Deanna gently and the three of them followed Ogden who had collided with a horse.
Deanna bit her lower lip to prevent any sound coming from her mouth. Tom did get his attractiveness from his father because he looked exactly like Tom Riddle did. The pretty girl beside Tom Riddle Sr. laughed at Ogden who set off again.
"I think that will do." Deanna could feel Dumbledore take her by the elbow and with a tug, they were pulled through darkness until they arrived back in Dumbledore's office.
"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or whatever her name was?"
"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, motioning them to sit down as he did so. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."
"Marvolo?" Harry repeated wonderingly.
"That's right," said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see you're keeping up."
"That old man was — ?"
"His grandfather." Deanna cut him off in a small voice. She let out a sigh and looked at their worried faces, giving a little smile to show them she was fine. "I'm fine."
Dumbledore squeezed her hand and continued. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather more than his daughter."
"So Merope," said Harry, leaning forward, "so Merope was... Sir, does that mean she was... Voldemort's mother?"
"It does," said Dumbledore. "And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"
"The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the horse?"
"Very good indeed," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."
"How did they end up together, Pops?" Deanna asked with a frown.
"I think you are forgetting," said Dumbledore, "that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years.
"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"
"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested.
"Amortentia." Deanna supplied.
"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter, Merope.
"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.
"From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death — or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."
"And did Merope Gaunt die?" Deanna then asked. "T-Voldemort was brought up in an orphanage?"
"Yes, indeed, Deanna," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."
"But she did have his baby."
"But not until a year after they were married, Harry. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."
"What went wrong?" asked Harry. "Why did the love potion stop working?"
"Again, this is guesswork," said Dumbledore, "but I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son." The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.
"I think that will do for tonight, Harry," said Dumbledore after a moment or two.
"Yes, sir," said Harry. He got to his feet, but did not leave. "Sir... is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"
"Very important, I think," said Dumbledore.
"And it... it's got something to do with the prophecy?"
"It has everything to do with the prophecy."
"Right," said Harry, a little confused, but reassured all the same. He turned to go, then another question occurred to him, and he turned back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?" He and Dumbledore smiled when they noticed how Deanna had suddenly sat up at the mention of the witch.
Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."
"No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Good night, Deanna Professor." Harry suddenly stopped and he looked at the ring with a large, cracked, black stone. "Sir, that ring..." Deanna followed his vision and remembered that Dumbledore was wearing it that time.
"Yes?" said Dumbledore.
"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."
"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.
"But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"
Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."
"But how come — ? Have you always had it?"
"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."
"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"
"Around that time, yes, Harry." Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling. "Sir, how exactly — ?"
"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night."
"Good night, sir, Deanna."
"Night, Harry." As soon as the door closed, Deanna looked at her father who was smiling softly at her as if he understood what she was thinking of.
"I know you're confused. I know you don't understand, but let's talk about it next time, okay, love? It's quite late now. I promise I will answer everything." Dumbledore walked to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "Good night, little phoenix. I love you."
"I love you more, Pops." Deanna hugged him tight and whispered. "Please don't get hurt anymore. I hate seeing you hurt."
Dumbledore simply tightened the hug in response, his fingers crossed behind his back. "I promise."
Deanna let him go and went up to her room, falling back on her bed with a sigh. She stroked Fawkes' feathers and started lulling herself to sleep when she felt a sudden movement around her. Deanna opened her eyes and she wasn't in her room anymore. She looked behind her and her eyes widened at what she saw. Once again, there was Voldemort.
"What are –" But Deanna couldn't even finish her sentence because she opened her eyes and she was back in her room in Hogwarts with only Fawkes. She knew now it wasn't just a coincidence. What was happening? She was about to go to her father and tell her about what she had just seen when she heard the closing of his door. She let her hand fall from the door knob and sighed. What should she do?
"I'll figure this out. The next time he comes, I'll figure it out."
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