Disclaimer: All characters and features that you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling.

"I'm tellin' you, we 'ave nothin' of your interest," said a rather plump woman from the dilapidated door frame. She was stubborn, there was no doubt about it, her lies as blatant as an insult, her intentions fierce and childish. It was obvious that she was an older woman, though, it was hard to be exact about her age, due to the layer of trial and dirt which seemed to cake her skin.

After finishing his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry had a straightforward job to complete, though, his task was quite the opposite. Dumbledore had only left Harry with a few clues, puzzle pieces were still missing in abundance. Remembering how Dumbledore had visited the site of the Gaunt residence, Harry decided to trace the memories he had traveled, his first stop being, inevitably, the orphanage. It had been fairly easy to find, the memory being fairly clear about its location. And now, he was absolutely positive he was at the correct doorstep, which had marked the beginning of Dumbledore's eccentric visit so many years ago. At this point, there was no turning back, not after all he had been through.

"Let me in," he said, far more forcefully, pausing between each word to show his necessity.

"Oy'm tellin' ya', we nev' had any Tom Riddle 'ere. Oy don't know what you ar' talkin' bout, but oy dun' l-oy-ke it. You aren't gettin' in dis' establishment if ya' know wat's good for ya'." She stumbled over her words, with a clear Cockney accent, especially having trouble with the word "establishment." Nonetheless, her words weren't filled with even a crack of uncertainty, which made Harry even more suspicious that she had something to hide. Obviously, his approach was just running him in circles, thus, he decided to perhaps try to, well, reason with her, kindly.

Harry pulled out a small drawstring bag from his pocket, and made sure to shake it around a bit, the coins inside clanging together, creating the harmonious melody of well, money. He smiled a bit, waving the bag nonchalantly with his right hand, and then turned to once again acknowledge the woman.

"I just want to take a quick look inside, see some of the rooms, in regards to um, history. Otherwise, my, well, bag and I can leave and visit some other orphanage in the area."

The lady gave him a stern look, yet, looking in both directions, ushered him inside.

"And you promise to cooperate?"

"Oy do," she said, much friendlier now, her eyes fixated on the black velvet bag in his hand.