Diana was running, running faster than she ever thought her legs could carry her, her mind reeling with the events that had just occurred. Finally, she knew her mother's name, finally, she could ask Dumbledore questions, and finally, she was able to get some answers. She yelled the password, yanking open the door to his office, and she saw him staring idly at some papers before him.
"Diana, what are you---"
"Vera," she said. It was the only thing she could think of to say. "That was her name. Vera."
That immediately caught his attention, causing him to set the papers down slowly and carefully and his eyes to train directly onto her face. "Who told you that?" he wasn't angry; at least, he didn't sound angry.
"Severus."
He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "Why did he tell you that?"
"It was during the Occlumency session. He did a demonstration on me, and before I was able to push him out, we both saw one image."
"What was this image?"
"My father, staring at some woman with happiness. It was strange. I asked Severus about it, and he told me her name," she rushed out. Her mind was moving really fast, and she thought if she didn't tell him this as fast as she could it would be gone the next second. He didn't say anything. "Please, Albus. I'm not like Harry. I can't live without answers like you seem to think he can. Please, I need something."
He sighed, his eyes trained on the Pensieve. "Let me show you," he finally said, standing up with the grace of a much younger person.
He pulled it completely out of its closet and pulled out his wand, extracting a few electric strings of memory from his temple. "You must understand that I still have secrets that I need to keep, and that nothing will change that. But, alas, this should satisfy your gnawing curiosity for the meantime."
"Ready?" he asked gravely, his voice sounding weak. She nodded once, and they both simultaneously put their face into the liquidy gas and they delved head first into the chasm and onto solid ground.
They landed on a solid gray concrete. A much younger Dumbledore sat across a grand oak desk from a whimsical looking woman.
"I'm so relieved you could meet with me," she squeaked quickly. She was jumpy and paranoid, glancing around the nonthreatening room every few seconds. "I've seen many things about you and some other people that I find you'd be interested in."
"I'd be delighted to hear it," the younger Dumbledore mused. He seemed completely oblivious to her obvious paranoia. "You tell me it is extremely pertinent?" he asked politely, as if to push the conversation along.
"Oh, yes!" she squealed excitedly. "Very important. I have been bestowed upon with a great Prophecy from a long, long time ago. I was told to share it with you as soon as possible," she said quickly, pouring herself a glass of brandy. She offered him some, but he declined politely.
"Who told you to tell me?" he asked, watching her sip on the alcohol gingerly.
"I wish I knew! But I just listen to them because they're always right!" she quipped. "They told me of an old Prophecy, told by one of my ancestors to a great Wizard. And can you believe who it was to?" she nearly screeched in excitement, which seemed to make her jump in fright and slop some of the brandy down her front.
"I'd be delighted to know."
"Merlin!" she yelled. "That's who the Prophecy was to!"
Young Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Can you tell me what this Prophecy spoke of?"
"A young girl and boy," she whispered dramatically. "The girl being a descendant of Merlin himself, and the boy a descendant of Slytherin. Slytherin, I say! It tells of a story of love and loss, and it tells of the downfall of the Wizarding World."
Older Dumbledore turned to Diana and whispered, "I had not known Tom Riddle yet. This is before he was born."
Younger Dumbledore watched the woman's ridiculous theatrics with amusement. "Do you know their names?" he asked.
"Only their heritage," she said, shaking her head violently.
"Can you tell me the entire Prophecy, start to finish?"
"Of course!" she said. She opened her mouth top begin, but the image swirled to what had to be a few minutes later, to Dumbledore walking out of a tiny shack with a large sign that read: Clairella Trelawney's Palm Readings and Fortune Telling.
"Goodbye, Mr. Dumbledore!" Clairella Trelawney called before the image swirled again and Diana found herself standing on solid black and white tile, cracked and faded from age.
She immediately caught sight of another younger version of her Dumbledore, though he looked slightly older. It must have been around a decade after the last memory.
"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, yes?" said a pretty woman to the left. She had a light French accent that must have faded from underuse. "You would like to meet with one of my girls?" She was quite beautiful, but she looked mean. She looked superficial and vapid, with a dark red lipstick and a flowing purple dress much too fancy for this occasion.
"I'm here to speak with Vera Beauregard," he said formally. He held is brown tweed jacket draped over his arms and he had a brown leather briefcase in his hand.
"Oh, such a sweet girl," she said, leading him down the hall. Both Dumbledores and Diana had the impression she didn't mean it at all.
They reached a thin dark-wood door, and the woman pushed it open. A little girl with extremely dark hair sat on an uncomfortable-looking chair before a tiny desk, drawing something onto a ripped piece of paper. Her tights were patched at the knees and her small jumper was frayed and worn. Her face, though, held no likeness to her clothes: her skin was porcelain and her hair was long and shiny, so dark it looked inky. Her eyes were brown too, but not dark like the rest of her; they were warm and full of light, no matter how sad her clothes and cramped little bedroom looked. She turned to see who had intruded, and she scooted back slightly in her chair when she saw the woman. "You have a visitor," she hissed, much less warm and friendly than when she had been talking to Dumbledore.
"Hello, sir," she said timidly, though she was awfully kind in the way she said it.
"Speak to her as long as you'd like," the woman told Dumbledore. "I'll be in my office." She swept out of the room and slammed the door shut. The little girl flinched.
"Are you Vera Beauregard?" he asked, even though he already knew who she was. He was just being courteous. The girl nodded shyly, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear with small hands.
"My name is Professor Dumbledore," he introduced, looking her directly in the eye. She, surprisingly, held his gaze.
"Professor?" she said, her mood immediately lifted at the word. "You're a professor?" she asked with a little smile, though Diana had a feeling this is the biggest smile she had produced in a while.
"Yes," he said, more questioningly than anything.
"Do you teach things?" she asked eagerly, nearly jumping out of her seat in restrained excitement. "What kind of things do you teach?"
"I come from a very unusual school," he answered carefully, amused at the entranced girl in front of him. "We teach very unusual things."
"I love unusual!" she said gleefully, but as if remembering she isn't allowed to be happy, her smile dulled and she sat back down, turning her eyes shyly to the ground. "I really enjoy learning. What kind of school do you teach at? You said it was unusual."
"I work at a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Like I said, it's very unusual. I would like you to attend this school," he said, with every word her eyes got wider and her smile grew.
"You want me to learn at your school?" she nearly squealed, but once again her face fell and she sank back in her seat. "But that can't be right, can it? I mean, why do you want me to come? Emery, down the hall, she's even smarter than I am. She would be much better," she said, downcast, her voice dropping to something just above a whisper.
Young Dumbledore chuckled. "Though Emery might be intelligent, you are far more incredible. Your name has been written down to attend Hogwarts since the day you were born."
"Why me?" she asked, not letting herself get her hopes up again.
"You are a witch," he started, and her eyes widened. "You come from a very long line of very incredible magical people. I would like for you to attend Hogwarts and get a proper education. You would be a great addition to the school."
She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "But that can't be right! I'm not extraordinary! I haven't even memorized the complete star chart yet and I've already been studying it for days!"
Both Dumbledores chuckled, amused and, frankly, impressed that such a young girl could have the potential to memorize an entire star chart in mere days. "Have you ever had strange things happen while you were around? Maybe you were very sad or angry, and something strange happened?"
She sat for a moment and thought. "Well, one time Miss Dayanara was really angry, and she was going to hit me harder than usual, and instead of hitting me, a clear wall appeared right in front of me and she hit that instead. She had a broken hand," she said. Diana became sad at the though of her mother being hit. Both Dumbledores' eyes grew weary as well.
"Does Miss Dayanara hit you often?" he asked delicately, causing Vera to shrug shyly.
"Sometimes. But only when she's mad."
"During the school year, you live full time on the grounds. During the summer, we can arrange something so you will never have to come back here," he said, and her eyes brightened.
"Really? I don't have to come back here?"
He shook his head with a light smile. "How about tomorrow I come and pick you up and we can go shopping for your school items? I'll have your living arrangements figured out tonight and by tomorrow, you'll have a new place to stay," he suggested, already knowing she would say yes.
"I don't have any money," she said quietly.
"Your family has a very large vault at Gringotts, the Wizarding bank. You'll have all you need and more in there."
She smiled a bright smile, so wide that she almost looked uncomfortable from lack of use, but her face was bright and joyful nonetheless. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore! I can't wait to start at your school!"
"I can't wait to see the great things you achieve," he said sincerely. He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. "Here is your letter of acceptance, with your entire supply list. You may mull over it tonight if you wish."
He got up to leave, and before he bade goodbye she spoke up. "Professor? I want to ask you---Is it normal for. . .magical people. . .to hear voices in their head? I hear people in my head sometimes, and I want to know if it's something to be worried about."
He stopped at the door and turned to face her. "Just because something isn't normal doesn't mean it's bad. I have never heard of such a thing, but it is not something to be worried about. You're destined for extraordinary things, Vera. It's okay not to be normal."
He bade her goodbye and closed the door behind him, and judging by the look on his face Diana knew he didn't believe a word of what he had just told the little girl.
The scene swirled again, and Diana and older Dumbledore appeared behind the staff table in the Hogwarts Dining Hall. She saw the usual line of first years in front of the table, and she scoured the line for her mother. She saw her towards the front, the most gleeful look on her face, gazing at the enchanted ceiling in awe. Vera's name was called and her mother stepped up gingerly to the stool. She clambered on, for she was incredibly small, even for a first year, and the hat was placed on her head. Diana could only see the back of her mother's head, but after a few seconds, the hat shouted "RAVENCLAW" loudly and the Ravenclaw table clapped loudly as she skipped over, sitting in an open seat a few people scooted over to make.
More and more names were called, and eventually "Riddle, Tom" was called. Diana's breath hitched as young Tom strode up to the stool, and when the hat touched merely a hair on his head it yelled out "SLYTHERIN" quickly. He walked to the Slytherin table and sat. She could see his face now; he was handsome, even for an eleven year old, with a confidence much too developed for such a young boy. His eyes scanned across the room, onto the other three tables until his eyes landed on young Vera, shyly sitting with her eyes meekly peering around the room. When his eyes landed on her small frame, his eyebrows furrowed and he stared for a moment, until another boy clamped a hand on his shoulder and he was distracted. Older Dumbledore turned to Diana and whispered, "I remember this moment clearly. By now, I had known of both their family lineages, and I knew of the Prophecy. What I didn't foresee, though, was such a blatant reaction from Tom. It was so unlike him, to pay attention to anyone, especially someone as timid as Vera. I can only guess that because of the Prophecy, foretelling of their love, he had felt a strange pull to her, like a magnet."
Diana nodded half-heartedly, watching as Tom's eyes always seemed to find their way back to Vera, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and annoyance, as if he was annoyed he was so interested in this mousy girl at the Ravenclaw table.
"There's one more memory after this," said Dumbledore, his eyes losing the usual spark that they usually have, "and I would like you to know that this memory isn't mine."
"Whose is it?" she asked him, her eyes still drifting to her parents.
"Vera's," he said after a moment, finally getting Diana's full attention.
The scene swirled and appeared again in an empty hallway, one of the smaller and more covert ones of Hogwarts Castle. Vera Beauregard, now about sixteen or seventeen, came around the corner. She was beautiful; her hair flowed to her shoulder blades and her eyes shown with a sort of attractive mischievousness and a deep intelligence, like she knew everyone's secrets just by looking at them. Her naturally bright lips seemed to be permanently perked into a small smile, and she looked much more confident than when she was eleven. She was reading a thick book that looked to be centuries old, attempting to walk and read at the same time, which was proving to work until Tom Riddle came strolling around the corner in front of her, and she ran smack dab into the middle of his chest.
Tom Riddle, as much as Diana hated to say it, was devilishly handsome. He had the same mischievousness and intelligence behind his eyes, but his were colder, more calculating. His black hair was perfectly neat yet perfectly tousled, and his stature was firm and straight, with a natural air of confidence that Vera didn't have. Both were beautiful people, and Diana could see that in terms of looks, they'd look very good together.
Vera recovered quickly, not fazed by the fact that she had just run into a supposed psychopath, who had plans to end the Wizarding World as they know it. "Tom, I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she said, picking up her scattered things from the ground. She held eye contact with him, which is not something anyone did with Tom Riddle. She talked to him, which is not something anyone did with Tom Riddle, either. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that no one, especially meek little Ravenclaws like herself, ever talked to Tom Riddle.
"Watch where you're going," he snapped, though it was almost forced, like he was only using that tone with her to keep up appearances. He watched her with a strange look as she picked up the rest of her things and stood up, her face completely unfazed by the way he snapped at her.
"I'm sorry, I have a nasty habit of desperately trying to escape when I'm walking," she said dryly, almost as if it was a joke and only she knew the punch line. He furrowed his eyebrows at her weird choice of words. He didn't know what it meant.
"Be more careful next time," he said coolly, though in a weird way he thought he might have meant it more than just a mean retort.
She smiled. "Will do," she said, and began to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. She looked almost startled by the sudden action, but she recovered quickly. "What is it?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. though instead of it being menacing and angry, and was calculating. He was trying to figure her out. He even tried to use Legilimency, but she was much too skilled to let him in. "Nice try, but you aren't getting in my head, Tom. Honestly, I don't even know why you'd want to, not much really goes on in there, and anything that does go on is not something you'd really want to see, it's very dark in there---"
"Will you shut up?" he said exasperatedly, and to his surprise, she snickered quietly. He watched her eyes for a moment, as they darted quickly between his. Both of them couldn't help but notice just how much shorter she was compared to him. "How do you do that?" he demanded, his grip tightening on her arm. A muscle in her jaw jumped in pain, but she had gotten used to pain a long time ago.
"Do what?" she asked earnestly, though through gritted teeth. "Can you let go please?" she asked quietly. His eyes darted back and forth from his grip on her arm to her eyes, and his hand loosened significantly.
"Sorry," he said briskly. The word sounded foreign on his tongue, but, oddly, he meant it. "How do you do that? How do you make it so I don't automatically hate you?"
Her eyebrows furrowed, and so did his, until all of a sudden he released her arm like he had been burned and he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll see you around," he said oddly, and he darted around the corner.
Vera stood with a curious look on her face. "Bye!" she called after him, but he couldn't hear her. He was long gone. When Diana was sure the memory was done and Dumbledore would soon pull her back to the surface, Dumbledore held up a hand, telling her to wait and watch.
Shy little Vera smiled lightly to herself, trying to contain a much wider one, and she shyly tucked a hair behind her ear. "I'm glad he doesn't hate me," she whispered to the floor, with the same childish and dopey smile, and she nearly skipped around the corner and out of sight.
Diana felt a tug on her elbow, and her and Dumbledore were pulled to the surface, where they pulled their heads out. Diana was in awe, and she couldn't find anything to say as Dumbledore lead her to the chair and she sat, him doing the same across from her.
Her watched her for a few moments, watched as she tried to collect herself but she just couldn't.
"I trust you noticed the sign on the Seer's door?" he asked, prompting a response from the dumbstruck girl.
"Trelawney," she managed to get out. "It was her ancestor, wasn't it?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. Diana rubbed her temples. "My mother was abused?" she said. It was the first question that came to her mind.
He hesitated. "At the orphanage, yes. I remember, years later, your mother showed me some scars she had gotten from Miss Dayanara." Diana gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "Like I had promised back then, the next day I had gotten her out of there. She, from then on, had a permanent room upstairs in the Hog's Head, courtesy of my brother," he said, causing her eyes to widen.
"What--how--my mother stayed there? Why didn't you tell me---"
"It was information I didn't think was necessary---"
"All information is necessary!"
"I know," he conceded. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."
"I didn't hear the Prophecy," she furthered, changing the subject.
"That, unfortunately, I am saving for another time."
"Vera's memory---was that the first time she had ever talked to him? Did she know? About him, I mean," she asked eagerly.
"Your mother was a brilliant woman, the extent of her powers even I knew not, I'm sure she had figured out that he wasn't as charming and wholesome as some seemed to think he was. I do not know how much she knew specifically, if at all, at that time. As you can see, she fancied Tom Riddle quite a bit," he prompted with a small smile. "And no, it wasn't the first time they had talked. They were always neck and neck with each other with grades, both Prefects, and she would be Head Girl while he would be Head Boy. They didn't associate directly often, but I would always notice them sneaking glances at each other."
"He fancied her as well," Diana commented smiling lightly at the way her parents had liked each other back then. "I didn't even know he was capable of that kind of emotion."
"He wasn't," replied Dumbledore. "If I had never heard of the Prophecy, I would have never though Tom Riddle would have had a crush on anyone. I thought he would be completely incapable of any emotion resembling love. He had never and will never feel that kind of emotion about anyone other than her."
Diana nodded, though she couldn't help but infer that her father would never love his own daughter.
"He really loved her, though," he commented.
They sat in a comfortable silence as she mulled over what she had found out.
"What happened to her?" she asked quietly. She counted eleven seconds before he responded.
"Honestly, I'm not really sure. Most say she's dead, but after all, most said Voldemort was dead and he turned out not to be. I don't really know."
"How do you not know?" she asked.
Dumbledore shook his head and looked at his laced fingers. "There are many rumors of what happened. Some say she died, through sickness or that she was killed by an Auror. Some say Voldemort killed her. Some say she left him, disappeared and never came back."
"Which one do you believe?"
There was a pause. "I don't think he killed her. For as evil as he was, he could have never done that."
"That still doesn't answer the question."
"I could be swayed into believing that she had left him. For as much as she loved him, she had always had conflicting morals. I wouldn't be surprised. I also wouldn't be surprised if she had been killed by an Auror. I really just don't know."
"Did he give her this necklace?" she asked, pulling hers out from beneath her shirt. The little globe caught the light and shone brightly in the dim office.
"Yes, he did."
She ran her fingers over it, and she cried. She cried for Harry and Dumbledore and the Order and how the world is just so messed up and how she was thrown into a life she did not ask for. She cried for all the people who have died at the hands of Tom Riddle: Lily and James Potter, Cedric Diggory, and so many more that he had killed before them, and all the people he would kill in the future. She cried for her future, her responsibility.
But most importantly, she cried for her mother, who was abused and beaten down yet so brilliant and beautiful, and she cried for her father, who had the potential to change but wasn't strong enough to do so.
Matthew Daddario as Tom Riddle
Lily Collins as Vera Beauregard