The rest of vacation had been a fantastic waste of time and mindless frolic. One day, Rodger kidnapped Frankie from studying with Tom to join him and the other seventh year's N.E.W.T procrastination party in the common room. Another morning, Dumbledore had found a sled plastered onto his office wall, amongst the various other odd artifacts, and let Frankie and Ethan borrow it to sled down the snowy hills. They almost ran over several people together, especially when Frankie was at the helm. They discovered she was as nearly bad as driving a sled as she was on a broomstick. Then, of course, there were a couple of snowy Sunday walks. Tom complained like mad, but regardless wrapped that ridiculous striped scarf around his neck and joined her in the silent, frosty air. Tom's fourteenth birthday was also celebrated, despite the fact he would've rather forgotten the day and have everyone go about as usual preparing for New Years. A whole birthday cake was presented to him after supper that evening and of course the other students couldn't just ignore the call of cake, even if they didn't actually know him. Dumbledore supplied celebratory crackers and it was a pleasantly small celebration. Frankie also made sure that she was stapled to his side the entire day, after their first year birthday fiasco.
It was nothing but fun and good cheer for a couple weeks. The vacation, which Frankie was supposed to be dreading, passed by incredibly fast. Soon everyone was returning to school for lessons. Most weren't exactly eager to have to go back to their studies, however, there was not too much despair amongst the higher years. Almost immediately after they got back, would be yet another trip to the village of Hogsmeade.
"—Frankie, you should stay with us this time. Tom always steals you away during the Hogsmeade trips." Daphne exclaimed, as she was folding another jumper to put back in her trunk. She was still unpacking her things from vacation, even though they had gotten back almost a week ago.
"It's not like he plans it." Frankie replied, haughtily. She was on her own bed, hugging the stuffed rabbit Tom had given her for Christmas. She had been very attached to the thing and sometimes smoothed the ears in her hands for comfort. It had been decided that her name was Rue, and she had the same birthday as Tom. Frankie had once read in a children's book at the orphanage, that a stuffed animal's birthday is not on the day it is purchased or received. The day when you tie a ribbon around its neck and give it a name, is the creature's proper birthday. Upon remembering this information, Frankie had brought the rabbit to breakfast, so he could help her decide on a name,
"I still don't know what to name it, Tom. Haven't you got any ideas?"
"You're starting to make me regret giving that thing to you—Give it here."
"You can't hang it from the rafters, Tom. I don't think the Great Hall has them."
"Watch me."
Suddenly, he took the red ribbon from her head and tied it around the rabbit's neck. He named her Rue. It was a 'symbol of his regret'. She stared at him blankly as he handed the rabbit back and continued eating.
"I've read that book too. It was stupid..."
"—I think we should go see the Shrieking Shack. Have you gone yet, Frankie?" Belle chimed in, listening over from her own bed.
"The Shrieking Shack?" Frankie repeated. She had never heard of it before, but it didn't sound like the place you wanted to pay a visit too. It sounded like a shack that, well, shrieked.
"It's the most haunted building in all of Great Britain and it's just over yonder."
"No way. I'm not going anywhere near that place—I hear there are horrible monsters in there." Sara added, from all the way over at her bed.
"Oh, you're exaggerating, Sara. There's only rumored to be one monster," Belle corrected, as if that were any better. They all shot her questionable looks and she shrunk up a bit. "Well, it's not like we'll be going inside. We'll be at a reasonable distance."
Alice came to alert them that it was time to go and the girls left their room to meet the others in the common room. Quin waved at Frankie as she descended from the stairs, but she completely ignored him and kept walking. She was clearly still not over what he'd said before the break and, despite the fact he wanted to make up, he refused to apologize. The Gryffindors walked to join the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins, who were already waiting in front of the main entrance. After everyone was taken accounted for, they all departed for Hogsmeade. Frankie at least walked with Tom, some ways behind the rest of the dispersed group walking down the path, to tell him of the other girl's plans. As soon as they got there, she found the Gryffindor girls waiting for her. She waved Tom goodbye and left with them to the outskirts of the deserted shack.
"See? It's only a house." Daphne stated, to no one in particular, after moments of everyone just staring at it in silence. It really was just a house, to much of Frankie's surprise. She expected something more with the way the girls hyped it up, but it really was just a large, run down, filthy-looking house.
"It may look like that, but there's a horrendous creature living inside."
The voice had not been from one of them, but from someone standing close behind them. It was a cruel chilling voice that they had all come to know far too well by now. Frankie and the girls turned to find Lyra, Victoria, and Ellyn staring back at her, looking high and mighty as usual.
"I hear it's so deadly that the Ministry doesn't even have a classification for it. They don't even know what it is. No one's lived long enough in its presence to give it a name." Lyra continued, suspiciously chipper.
"That's a load of rubbish. You're just trying to scare us." Frankie added. She glared them down with a similar defiance that all the other Gryffindor girls held for the trio. Usually, she was polite and considerate to their ill treatment, but there was simply no tolerance for them today. She could sense that they were up to something yet again. "We're Gryffindors. You're going to need to try harder than that."
"If you say there's no monster, then why don't you go in there and prove it." Lyra sneered back at her.
"I don't have to prove anything to you."
"So, you're saying that you're too chicken? So much for being a Gryffindor." Lyra laughed, coldly. "You're not half as clever as he thinks you are, and you make everyone fight your battles for you. What good are you...?"
"Shut up." Frankie stated, strongly. Grit was filling her usually sweet voice. It was truly astounding how Lyra could make even the kindest of people want to punch her in the face.
"Your poor parents didn't die for much, now, did they? Some legacy you're turning out to be."
"I said be quiet!" Frankie snapped. She usually didn't get caught up in house pride hysteria and definitely shouldn't have cared so viciously about Lyra's baiting chides. But, they burned. How dare she question her placement into Gryffindor and insult her parents death. Her parents, along with Ogg and Professor Dumbledore, were all Gryffindors in their time. They were her idols and her family. It was her dream to become a great witch and someone they could be proud of. "At least my parents died protecting me—The Blacks don't seem to give a rat's arse about you."
Lyra's high and mighty smile faded rather quickly. She looked dangerous and was staring at Frankie with wide eyes that screamed, 'you'll pay'. Suddenly, Frankie wished she hadn't been so brave to say what was really on her mind. Even if it was Lyra, she'd gone a little too far to insult the entirety of the Black family.
"Go into the Shrieking Shack then, if you're really so great. It should be an easy task for you." Lyra demanded, with a thin and deadly smile.
"Fine, I'll do it. Anything to shut you up for a spell..." Frankie agreed, with an exasperated sigh. She thought she might as well just get it over with and stop this nonsense, rather than arguing with them all afternoon. Besides, the second option was probably a duel, which was as equally foolish a conclusion to the argument. Lyra's family connections might land her a few grimy detentions, but Frankie would surely be expelled. Also, they'd be no better than the boys, raising their wands over every minor issue and disagreement.
"—but you three have to go with her." Daphne added, before they could even cast looks of victory and superiority.
"What! Why?" Ellyn protested.
"How will you know if she actually went inside or not? Are you really going to trust her word?" Belle reasoned, coming to her defense as well. She knew that the Slytherin girls could not be persuaded to let them go with her and having anyone was better than going in alone. Frankie could handle their stupid tricks.
"Let's get this over with then..." Lyra grumbled, turning to head for the path.
The four silently walked up the pathway that led to the Shrieking Shack, keeping their eyes fixed on the house itself rather than each other. It was falling apart. There were tons of missing wood and broken glass littering the lightly frosted lawn around the house. Hanging curtains were blowing out of what had once been windows.
Frankie swung the door open with one light push. The inside was just as bad. There were tons of empty portraits and broken furniture. They looked around, but besides the occasional mouse all they saw was an empty, abandoned house. Frankie gazed up at the diminishing staircase. It looked like it wouldn't be able to support even her small figure. However, despite that, she and the trio climbed up the stairs to the second floor. The first room had just a few more portraits, along with a couple of dusty, cushioned chairs. Frankie entered the second room the walls looked like they had been clawed. There were a few floor boards ripped out and more shattered glass everywhere.
"What happened in here?" Frankie asked, looking more closely at the clawed walls. However, there was no one behind her to answer. The door had been closed and all she could hear was muffled snickering on the other side.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me...Let me out!" Frankie yelled, banging on the dusty door. Of course, they had locked her in. This seemed like a typical backup move for the trio after they'd been pressured into accompanying her. However, what they would gain from locking her in this moldy old dump, she didn't know. She stopped banging on the door, after she heard some muffled rustling. Instead of running off, they'd come to their senses for once and were going to let her out.
Unfortunately, to much of Frankie's dismay, the noises were not coming from the other side of the door...
She looked over to what used to be a magnificent canopy bed that was now a pile of various curtains and de-stuffed pillows. She couldn't see what was under them, but whatever it was it was moving.
"Girls—I'm not fooling around. There's something in here. Let me out now!" Frankie screamed, panic growing inside her. She tried 'Alohomora', but they had something wedged up against the door and even put Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in the lock for good measure. Unfortunately, her efforts were in vain. The trio were already running back down the stairs, laughing, and had left her there to face whatever was in the room. The creature emerged from the curtains to reveal itself to the intruder. It was a monster alright, but not one ever encountered in The Monster Book of Monsters.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Unaware of her mortal peril in a far abandoned house, Tom was just walking around town, looking for a spot to settle in without an annoying bunch of people in it. Although, that seemed to be pretty much an impossible and fruitless effort. He'd managed to abandon the other Slytherin boys by remaining silent and skillfully slipping away at the precise right moment. They were boring him as usual. If he really didn't want to be bothered, the tree by the lake was his best option. Despite the fact that it was completely exposed, for some reason there was never anyone else there besides them.
However, he found himself instead wandering through the trees to the viewing point of the Shrieking Shack. If Tom was going there, Frankie needed to be there with him. Surely, she'd had enough of staring at an old, moldy house by now. Suddenly, there were voices coming from up ahead and for some reason Tom kept hidden behind a tree to listen. It sounded like the Gryffindor and Slytherin girls. Naturally, in a very heated argument, like pretty much every other meeting of the two groups thus far.
"Where's Frankie? What happened?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing, I swear—"
"Then, where is she?"
"What's going on here?" Tom asked, coming out from behind the tree. He had heard enough to trigger his involvement in the matter. What happened to Frankie? If she had gone off with them and had not returned, those foolish girls must have been the reason why. What had they done to her this time? Tom glared them down and the trio backed up a little, "Fess up. Don't bother trying to lie to me, Lyra."
"She went up into the Shrieking Shack—well, we went with her too. We l-lock-locked her in a room and left after she said she there was something in there with her," Ellyn admitted, unable to keep her silence under Tom's deathly glare. "You've got to go help her, Tom. I think she's in real trouble."
"Ellyn! You're making it sound bad. She's perfectly fine, Tom." Lyra added, with her best and fakest smile. "At worst, we left her with an old Boggart. She'll have handled it by now—"
A sharp scream hit the tense air. He didn't need Ellyn to tell him to save her and he wasn't about to sit there and listen to their excuses when she was clearly in danger. Tom immediately ran off towards the Shrieking Shack, leaving Ellyn to face the consequences of her confession of vital information. However, her confession would mean that, whatever the outcome of their transgression, she would receive less punishment from him when he returned. However, he was still going to make them all pay for this cruelty.
After fighting the blistering snowy winds, he burst through the door a few minutes later. He didn't know where to start looking. The place was ratty, but gigantic, and there wasn't any sign of her. For all he knew, she could've been dead by now.
Then, he heard a loud crash from upstairs and, with a small glimmer of hope, he ran up the stairs as fast as his legs could go. A crash meant she could still be fighting. She could still be alive. Tom took out his wand as he approached the door with the chair against it.
"Alohomora." Tom shouted. He tossed the chair to the side and tried opening the door. It didn't work. There was a surprising amount of chewing gum in the lock, of course. It was already time for Plan B. Tom kicked in the door, with a surprising amount of force, considering how physically weak he was. Although, considering how old and rotten the door probably was, it was not much of a triumph of strength. It fell to the floor. Frankie was alive and standing, but what was supposed to be the greatest relief brought him little comfort. She was not dead yet. She was backed against the wall and covered with various gashes and bruises from a fight he was only catching the tailwind of. She had her wand pointed at a large creature, towering above her, nearly as tall as a double decker bus. It was growling in anger, showing off its sharp piercing fangs. Tom couldn't recognize it, but it seemed weird, even for a creature from the wizarding world. The creature looked like a bison with light brown fur and crumpled horns. It's vicious red eyes were glaring intently at the cornered Frankie, ready to take the final blow. But, instinctively had to flicker towards the new arrival that had come. Her eyes quickly met his and she couldn't help but smile in relief.
"Frankie!"
"Tom—watch out!" she yelled. The beast swung one of its paws at him. He was unable to dodge in time and was slammed against the crumbling wall. Thankfully, he didn't get knocked out, or killed, but received a huge bloody gash on his forehead. Tom was reminded of first year when Quin had poured ink in his hair on the first day of school. He remembered the ink dripping down into his eyes and onto his cheeks. It was just like that. Only much more painful and less uncomfortably wet. He noticed another gash on his left forearm. The wall seemed like it sustained more damage than he had, at least. Tom tried to get up and fight back but suddenly felt a sharp pain in his ankle.
Damn!
It was probably sprained or broken. Tom sunk to the ground with blood dripping down the side of his face, his wand miraculously still pointing at the monster. It was clear to him that there was absolutely no way they would be able to beat this beast with only the ability of third years. Most likely Frankie had already tried every spell they had learned this year, so far, and clearly, they had no effect. He would need more power if he wanted to protect her. The creature's attention was at least focused on him now.
"Run!" Tom shouted angrily at her. She could escape, while the monster finished him off. With his leg injuries and his limited magic, Tom had quickly deduced himself down to a hopeless case. He reckoned he had a maximum of ten minutes left in him, which would give Frankie plenty of time to run back to the group in Hogsmeade and get far enough away. However, it wouldn't be enough time to get any of the professors to rescue him. Tom didn't have many fears, but after the struggles he'd gone through to live fourteen years, he had little else to rationally fear but death. And, despite his cruel and bitter nature, he was not inclined to drag anyone down with him. Certainly, not her. If he could at least save her, it would have surely been worth it. It was not like he had too much else to live for.
There might have been something else he needed to tell her before he died. But Tom knew, if he confessed it on his dying breath, she would never forgive him for such cruelty.
Frankie stood there nonetheless, staring at Tom as the monster drew nearer. She wasn't about to abandon him, despite that probably being the last order he was ever going to give her. However, she couldn't think of any spell she had the ability to do, that she hadn't already tried. Frankie had already thrown everything she had at the beast. Like him, she'd come to the helpless conclusion that she didn't have enough power to save him, let alone herself. However, unlike him, she refused to be so helpless.
"Don't give up. Call it."
At first she thought Tom had shouted at her, but he was still glaring at her to run away and leave him for dead. Then, she realized the voice was ringing directly in her mind, telling her to call something. But what? Another spell? What could she possibly call out to save her and Tom? She began to listen a little closer to try and decipher the meaning. The voice was familiar. Then, all of a sudden she remembered. It was the same small voice that always rung in her head and told her that she shouldn't give up, even if it was just over the simplest matter. The voice who had guided her to a magical lake a couple summers ago. It had belonged to a little boy, from what she remembered, and he guided her to a ball of light. Then, it hit her. She knew exactly what it was telling her to do now.
"I need the sword!"
Frankie pulled the silver ruby hilted sword from mid-air and wielded it like she had been using a sword all her life. Tom just stared in awe at this transformed girl, despite a monster being about to rip him to shreds. Bloody and gashed, with a murderous angry glare in her eyes. She didn't look like herself. She looked how Tom had met her, standing up against a common orphanage bully. Strong and powerful. A true hero.
"Hey!" she shouted at the monster. It immediately turned its attention from Tom and started to charge at her. She shut her eyes and thrust the sword into what was hopefully the beast. There was a loud shriek of pain as she stabbed it in the chest and blood began to leak from the wound. Despite his ankle, Tom ran to pull a frozen, awestruck Frankie out of the way right before the monster collapsed to the ground where she stood. It had stopped moving and was just lying there with the sword still lodged in its chest. The two slowly approached the beast, being cautious of any surprise attacks. However, the storming red eyes turned black, and they knew she had done it.
"We're alive..." Tom remarked, in astonishment, once he was sure the moment was safe. "Thanks to you."
"Nonsense, you're the one who found me. I had run out of spells that I could think of. Nothing was working. I would've died if you hadn't shown up." Frankie trembled, pulling him into a hug. She felt a huge wave of relief was washing over her, no longer was her heart pounding in fear. They were both alive. They were both safe. And in this moment, that was everything.
"Honestly, what good was I? I got myself bludgeoned and was nearly down after one hit. I came here to save you, but I'm not the one who saved us." Tom stated, suddenly being quite logical rather than emotional. However, he did chance a smile at her and hug her back. She'd beat the unknown creature completely on her own. If anything, he'd been a liability. What a remarkable feat of her strength he'd been able to see. He pulled out the sword and started examining the blood-covered blade. "—Now, where did this come from?"
"I'm not sure." Frankie answered. He would think she was crazy if she told him a voice told her to pull it out of mid-air. To summon something fully tangible and have it still be present minutes later. Even for the wizarding world, it was odd. Thankfully, he didn't press on the matter any further. There were more serious issues to deal with.
"Let's just get out of here..."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The two left the Shrieking Shack without another word and started to walk back into the sufficiently empty town. It was sunset by the time they arrived and the Hogsmeade group had already gone back without them. They walked back to the castle to accept their punishment. It was obvious there was going to be some kind of severe consequence there waiting for them. Tom held the silver sword in his right hand and Frankie's hand in his left. Unconsciously, he had grabbed it amidst their silence, for once not caring who saw them. The funny thing about almost dying is that it makes you want to cling to the important things in your life and not give two shits about anything else. He wouldn't let her go. The two didn't encounter anyone though, as they approached the castle. Supper had probably already started. However, a figure seemed to pop out of nowhere and they found Dumbledore was there at the entrance, obviously waiting for them. He didn't look at all cross or angry about their late arrival, though. He merely took in their appearance, his gaze getting caught particularly on the sword in Tom's hand.
"—And, where have you two been?"
"The Shrieking Shack." Tom answered. There was no point in lying, especially to Dumbledore. "We've been attacked."
"The Crumpled-Horned Snorkack got you, did she? Well, I suppose it was bound to happen again sooner or later." Dumbledore mumbled, with a mix of a small smile and a saddened expression. "I believe Professor Kettleburn has lost a leg to her as well. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to make you a replacement, Tom."
"The—what?" Tom got a little flustered at Dumbledore's injury assessments and the bizarre name of what just attacked them that all his questions just got jumbled together.
"Calm down, Tom. I was only joking. Glinda should have you fixed in no time. But, we have business to attend to first." Dumbledore sighed, holding out his hands for Tom to give him the weapon. Tom reluctantly placed the sword in Dumbledore's hands, and they all retreated inside of the castle. "Follow me."
The two silently followed him back to his office, trying to keep their heads down. They were walking through hallways of murmuring students that had already finished supper and were perusing the halls looking for people to talk too. Araminta Meliflua Black and Walburga Black, Lyra's cousin and older sister, were staring intently with hushed whispers. It was a mystery how much of this story they knew beforehand, but the fact that Tom was walking down the hallway next to someone who was not a Slytherin was whisper worthy enough. They clearly weren't alone. The two could just about hear Carlotta Pinkstone, a Ravenclaw seventh year, whispering to Rodger and Alice:
"Isn't that one of your girls? She's covered in blood. What's she gone and done?"
Frankie added them to the list of people who'd she be giving one hell of an explanation to later.
Finally, after a humiliating parade, they entered the small office and sat down in the two chairs specifically allotted for students. Both of them were expecting that, now they were completely out of public view, they were going to hear Dumbledore yell for the first time in two years and receive a grand punishment. Tom had his arguments ready, though. He wasn't about to get expelled for almost getting killed by those dumb girl's petty pranks gone wrong.
"—Can either one of you tell me what that is?" Dumbledore inquired to both, pointing at the shallow stone basin carved with strange symbols to the wall on his left.
"It's a Pensieve, sir. It allows you to view memories you've collected throughout your life. One simply draws the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and is able to examine them whenever they wish." Tom answered, obediently, despite all the rage he was feeling. What did a Pensieve have to do with anything that just happened?
"You're right, Tom." Dumbledore smiled, looking at him with a proud expression. It wasn't something they were supposed to have learned about yet and Tom had given a clear, correct answer. "However, the memory doesn't always have to be yours. I've collected memories from other people too."
He referred up to a specific shelf in the cabinet besides the Pensieve that must've been reserved for special memories. Tom couldn't read the text on all of them, but a few names such as Nicholas Flamel and Zell Gaunt, stood out in bolder writing.
"Aren't we in trouble?" Tom asked, quickly prying his eyes away from the intriguing shelves of names and secrets.
"Nonsense—while going into a restricted area is obviously against school rules, I'm not thick enough to assume you went there by choice." Dumbledore replied.
"Then, why aren't they here?" Tom snapped. Dumbledore knew practically everything that happened within a ten-mile radius of Hogwarts. It was Tom's main grievance with him, but he also figured that meant Dumbledore already knew the gist of the past couple hours and who was responsible.
"Surprisingly, it's you I want to talk to—not Lyra Black and her posse. You're not here for a punishment." Dumbledore insisted. This statement only furthered their intrigue. First, the pop quiz about a random magical item sitting in the corner of his office, and now a promise they weren't going to be expelled. What was all this leading to? "I have brought you both here because it's finally time. There is a certain memory in this cabinet I think you should see. It's a powerful—"
"What could this possibly have to do with us? We only met you two years ago and I'm fairly certain neither of us have let you have any of our memories."
"I only met you two years ago."
Dumbledore trailed off into silence, before gliding off towards the see-through cabinet filled with dozens of glass vials. He searched through the labels for a few minutes, until he found the right one. He shined a vial up to the light that read,
Frankie Dickson
"I suppose you're right, Tom. This matter doesn't exactly pertain to the both of you. I'd ask you to leave, but I'm fairly certain you won't listen, and she won't let you go." Dumbledore added. Tom couldn't deny that. She was eying him with desperation. She didn't know whatever this was, but she certainly didn't want to face it on her own. "The owner of this memory is Frankie. I collected it from her when I took her to the muggle hospital after her parent's death."
"Me?" Frankie questioned, sounding baffled even though the label said otherwise. She was pretty sure when Dumbledore first came to the orphanage to tell her and Tom that they were wizards was the first time she'd ever met Dumbledore. To think, he'd known all this time and did not once dare to tell her was infuriating. The mystery of that day had been plaguing her for years. He'd never once mentioned saving her from the accident, which she found to be kind of an important detail to leave out. It couldn't have been Dumbledore was just casually walking by when the accident happened. He knew her past. He was the one who'd been keeping it safe from her all this time.
"Yes..." Dumbledore responded. He was staring at the vial intently and sorrowful. Frankie wondered what he thought about it, being the only viewer of it up till now. "I'm sorry, my dear—but I'm the one whose been keeping the truth from you."
"Is that why I can't remember that day? You took it from me?" Frankie asked, with a hint of bitter anger in her voice. The ages six and seven were just a little blurry for some reason. She remembered a few things from the hospital, a few things from when her parents were still alive, but ultimately it was mostly forgotten.
And in that vial, was the most important memory of all...
The death of her parents.
"No. I erased some things, but I wouldn't erase that."
"What did you erase then?"
"The memory of a certain auburn-haired man leaving you on the orphanage steps to fend for yourself." Dumbledore sighed. He removed the memory from his own mind and the images appeared in the swirl of the Pensieve. Tom and Frankie leaned over with a growing curiosity that was harder to mask with rage. Dumbledore was walking with her up to the orphanage's front door. She'd spent a whole year in the hospital and this man had come to see her every day until she was well. The little girl was certain he was family until they arrived at the door and he was saying his goodbyes. She cried and rubbed her eyes, giving Dumbledore the perfect opportunity to remove his wand. He muttered the spell and vanished. Suddenly, her eyes were completely dry. The girl knew only that this was the orphanage, and she was expected inside. Dumbledore had disappeared from the scene, but it was obvious he was still hiding somewhere nearby for the memory remained solid until she was retrieved from the step by an orphanage worker. "You didn't recover so easily. That's why I was so hesitant to tell you until the time was right."
"Why is now the right time?"
"It'll all become clear after you see this. I promise you." Dumbledore assured her. He gestured for them to walk even closer to the basin. They obeyed and looked over as he poured the silvery, cloud-like mixture from the vial.
"Hang on—" Tom spoke up before they dove into the basin. Not that he wasn't curious to know a little about her past, but he was more than a little suspicious of Dumbledore's motives. He'd rolled over too easily when Tom asked him again, "Why am really going with her, if it doesn't involve me?"
"Who said anything about you not being involved?"
"You did, about five seconds ago, you—"
Before he could finish arguing, Frankie had grasped his hand and suddenly Tom was being pulled into the basin against his will. All that could be seen was black smoke and disembodied voices, like the memory was preparing to be shown but wasn't ready yet. The two were soon standing in a house, at the top of a flight of wooden stairs. The house looked like a common London household, a little nicer than Wool's Orphanage. However, the only thing that really caught their eye was the six-year-old girl standing at the top of the stairs in front of them.