Chapter 4: The Grove of Hawthysterias

Since his hibernation got in the way, Voldemort had to wait until things were officially safe in the end of May to ask the question he wanted answered.

"So? What blood status will you murder on your birthday?" Voldemort asked Penelope when the two were alone in his office.

"I want to kill a pureblood... in London," the soon-to-be-three-years-old said.

This got him curious. "Why ask for a location?"

"Wouldn't you want me to kill on a large range or would you prefer that I contend you with mere shepherds?"

This got a smile on the Dark Lord's face. "Spreading terror, are we? For once, you give me direct satisfaction."

It had taken a while for Penelope to learn, not directly from her father, the basilisks, and the Death Eaters, but from pure observance, that there was a major difference between lying and twisting the truth. Lying was something she was terrible at but twisting the truth, she was good at. Once, she and Brittany had managed to sneak into the kitchens and devour all of a gooseberry tart, with Penelope eating most of it. Even though the little girls cleaned their mouths and washed their mouths through salted water rinsing, the adults soon picked up that 'two gluttons ate the tart.' Penelope lied and claimed she didn't any, but Voldemort glared at her and noted that snakes' moved their forked tongues faster when they lied than when they were honest. And since basilisks raised Penelope, she had their lying quirk, so Voldemort beat her. This had taught her that lying wasn't for her because of physical betrayals.

Then another day came when, to give the children a break, the adults let them play outside. Bayen had given the ball to Penelope and she instantly kicked it at the window of her father's office. She said that yes she did, but at the same time Bayen was responsible because he tried to flatter her by giving her the ball and telling her she was a great kicker. This, on the other hand, was twisting the truth. She said her fault, but she changed it. Bayen hadn't influenced her, but since it was now aware that Bayen was developing for Penelope what his mother had for the Dark Lord... Bayen got the beating and Penelope got out.

"Truth is dangerous. You did very well," Voldemort applauded Penelope, who felt rather bad on the inside. After all, Bayen was an idiot, but he didn't deserve it. Besides, she noticed that her father observed her even more during the lessons. Not just to observe performances, but also as if to look even deeper. Soon it became clear to Penelope that perhaps her father might be trying to read her thoughts.

And currently speaking, she did not need Voldemort to know that her main reason of wanting to go to London was to find the graveyard where the ghost of Merope rested.

...

"Great news!" Bellatrix applauded as she stormed inside the kitchen while Bloodyle was washing off a pot and Penelope was finishing the pancakes made of parsley and grass snake blood that Bloodyle had made for her birthday. "Guess who's your victim tonight!"

"I'm going to guess that the Dark Lord chose either one of his own servants or some stuck up from the Ministry," Bloodyle said as she dried her hands. "Is it Fudge?"

"Pff! No, he's a waste of energy for someone adorably evil!" Bellatrix pinched Penelope's cheeks, making the three-year-old feel uncomfortable. "You're going to kill one of those blood traitors! From the Weasley family!"

"Stuck up from the Ministry and a Muggle-hugger?" Bloodyle took away Penelope's now empty dish. "OK, maybe not a total waste of time..."

"So when do we leave for London?" Penelope asked Bellatrix.

Her comment made Bloodyle drop the plate she was holding. The floor now had a new décor composed of shattered porcelain. "Is he mad?" Bloodyle exclaimed. "It's bad enough he's making her kill at her age and performing magic before she's not even eleven, but murdering at the Ministry? He might as well have her wave a flag at the main hall and shout 'Hey, look at me! I'm the Dark Lord's daughter! Unless you can send me to Azkaban, I'll make my merry way to kill one of you!'" When she said that, Bloodyle jumped on the table and started doing an Irish dance. Her act made Penelope cover her mouth in order to hide her laughter.

"Oh, she'll be fine!" Bellatrix forced Bloodyle off the table. "The Dark Lord will have her drink a Polyjuice Potion so that she'll appear to be Wormtail. We corner Weasley in his office when he clocks out and bam! Murderous triumph!"

"Yay," Penelope said drily.

...

Penelope's first impression of London? Too many lights and too much stench.

Voldemort was leading a flight of Death Eaters that included Bellatrix, Crouch, and Amycus. The Death Eaters flew like trails of black smoke in the night, but Penelope was carried by Bellatrix, and since the child still didn't know how to fly or apparate, she looked like she was lifted by clouds. Clouds dark enough to keep her out of sight from Muggles.

As the sky cleared to reveal London and the River Thames, Penelope immediately felt blinded by the numerous lights coming from the buildings higher than her own home. She took many sniffs to take in the urban scent, and soon enough, she missed the countryside odors she was most used to. All Penelope could smell while she was close to 100 feet above the ground was what smelled to her like melted metal and glass, dirty water (close to the basilisks' urine) and a thousand skins pressed against one another. She missed the odors of fresh stone, green moss, underground water, and snakeskin that she was so used to back in Yorkshire.

She pinched her nose.

"Muggle urbanization is revolting, isn't it?" Bellatrix told her, for she thought the child was pinching her nose out of disgust for the numerous Muggles moving below them.

Then came the fireworks of magic blasts charging at the Death Eaters.

"Aurors attacking!" Amycus shouted.

"Get Penelope out of here!" Voldemort demanded. He flew downwards where the magic was being charged from. Penelope saw a couple of green glows appearing, which meant that the Dark Lord was using his Killing Curse. Amycus and Crouch spun around Bellatrix and Penelope, creating a dark cloud that shot spears of smoke at the unseen Aurors. From the wizards below, it looked like the Death Eaters were counterattacking, but what they failed to realize was that it was just a setup. It was a setup to hide the fact that Bellatrix flew off with Penelope.

"I'm scared!" Penelope hugged Bellatrix tightly.

"There, there, sweetie!" Bellatrix gave her a small hug right back. "You'll be alright... AAH!"

Hugging Penelope made Bellatrix distracted from an upcoming magic blast. She got it right on the ribs and accidentally dropped Penelope. The child screamed as she plummeted. It was one thing to not fly, but falling to certain death? She could have sworn she heard the winds whistling several taunts.

"Don't worry! We'll catch you!" An approaching Auror said.

"No!" Penelope shouted. She closed her eyes and darkness came with excruciating pain.

...

"Ouch!"

Penelope bolted up. Something was stinging her arm.

"Careful."

Penelope had a better look. She was being addressed by a boy, roughly two years older than her. Tuffs of messy brown hair grew on his head, but at least their color matched his eyes. He wore a yellow woolen sweater and black pants with matching shoes. He was just finishing to tighten the bandages around her arm. The two children appeared to be in some kind of kitchen and Penelope was resting on a sitting area by the window.

A woman in her late thirties, probably the boy's mother and dressed in some sort of working dress, was just finishing to dry her hands with a towel. "How are you feeling dear?" She kindly asked Penelope.

"I'm fine. Where am I and what happened?"

The woman looked rather startled. Obviously, does anyone expect a three-year-old to talk like that?

"You fell from the sky. Out of a poof." The boy said. "You landed and your arm was bleeding!"

"Honey!" The woman chided her son before going back to Penelope. "I'm sorry. He's trying to say that you may have apparated in the middle of the sidewalk when we came back from some shopping and you got splinched."

"Mum obliviated the Muggles. Made them think you got bit by some dog," the boy nodded.

Penelope looked at her bandaged arm. She noticed that half of it was wrapped up in the white cloth. So she apparated unconsciously? Her talents were increasing, but she got injured.

"I still can't believe that a small child like yourself risked apparating!" The mother said in disbelief. "You're not even of age to start performing magic!"

"It was kind of an accident," Penelope did her specialty, twisting the truth. "Today's my birthday and I told my father I wanted to go to London, but we got attacked by Death Eaters above the Thames. I was accidentally dropped... I guess I apparated to escape."

"Poor dear!" The mother caressed Penelope's cheek in what the child saw as unusual kindness. "Don't worry. Newt and I were planning to head to the Ministry after we make a stop at the St Punica graveyard." She began making her way out and addressed her son. "Newt, would you be a dear and give her something to drink while I prepare the flowers?"

"Yes, mum."

As if mother left to take care of 'the flowers', Newt went to grab a copper tea kettle and began pouring in some water. Penelope properly sat up and sniffed.

"You smell weird," she told him.

"I'm sorry." He looked embarrassingly at the clean, but visible brown marks on his fingers. Clearly, he had previously dug in dirt. "I got carried away helping Mum picking flowers for the graveyard visit. Found a bunch of garden lizards."

"Guess that explains why you're named Newt?"

"No. My first name's actually Newton. Pop had a fondness for the Muggle scientist and he's got this thing of giving important names. He called my older brother Theseus, he called me Newton, but Mum started out the nickname of 'Newt'." He pulled over a stool and succeeded in reaching up a cabinet, where he grabbed a jar full of jasmine flowers. As he put some blossoms in a mug, the tea kettle began to whistle. "What's your name?"

"It's Penelope." Penelope frowned more at him in confusion. "Is your father a Muggle-born? Since he named you after a Muggle celebrity?"

"Actually, he's half-blood." Newt poured the hot water in the mug. "Muggle mother, pureblood father. His twin, my Auntie Clara, was a Squib. She died recently. Her funeral was yesterday. Mum and I are going back to her grave to drop off flowers. We'll meet up with Pop and Theseus at the Ministry and go back home."

He handed the mug to Penelope. Despite being startled over his kindness, she took in the mug and took a sip. A big smile appeared on her lips as the simple, but warm drink went through her throat. "It's good!" She said.

"Did you know that jasmine leaves bring the caffeine, not the jasmine blossoms, in tea? They grow especially well if you use the poop of hippogriffs."

"Hippogriff poop?"

"Yeah. Mum breeds them. That's why we live in he countryside..." Newt looked a bit unhappy. "And why I got into spending time with her and animals rather than getting interested in Ministry work like Theseus."

Penelope smiled.

For some reason she wasn't sure why, she knew she was going to get along with Newt.

...

Newt's mother kept a good eye on the children as the three walked through the dark London streets lit up by lampposts. The only Muggles outside at this time were the local police patrolling the neighborhoods to ensure safety. Some politely greeted the trio and wished them good safety.

"So what did your aunt die of?" Penelope asked Newt.

"Overdose of medicine." Newt shrugged. "Barely anyone took her seriously since she was a Squib. Her doctor suggested medication to 'open herself to others'. Pop says she might as well have been hit by Crucio..."

"Newt!" His mother scolded.

"It's OK." Penelope protected Newt. "My father's performed the Unforgivable Curses in front of me."

"Is he an Auror? Only they are allowed to use them."

"He's not." Penelope shook her head. "He's kinda failed at making me use them. I know what they do, but I never used them."

"Good! It's no place for a child to be sent to Azkaban!" She stopped at a gate and the children copied her. In the basket where she kept a bouquet of white peonies and lily-of-the-valley for the grave of the deceased, she pulled out three pairs of earmuffs. Two of them, she placed over Newt and Penelope's ears. Penelope grimaced at the sensation the fluffiness was giving her.

Newt's mother put her own pair on and pulled her wand out. She recited 'Alohamora' and the gate unlocked before opening automatically, leading the group in the graveyard.

We'll be straightforward: the place was a mess, even Penelope thought the basilisk outhouse looked better. The paths separating each tomb from another were hexagon-shaped, making Penelope feel like she was walking through the pattern of a beehive made of stone. Speaking of the tombs themselves, they ranged from clean and polished to unattended to the point that some were actually crumbling or covered in vines. As they went further into the St Punica graveyard, Penelope realized that the graveyard reminded her much of the one she had drawn.

Was it possible that St Punica was where her grandmother was buried?

They reached the heart of the graveyard. A large grove of hawthorn trees grew in a hexagon format. Penelope noticed immediately that those weren't ordinary hawthorn trees. They gave her the impression of a skeleton. The bark was bone white, the trunks were formed like rib cage and the branches were as thin as arms' bones. No leaves grew on them, but as the wind blew, they gave off the smell of blood and rotting flesh. Also, Penelope could have sworn he heard screams when the wind blew to agitate those trees. It almost sounded like a crowd of people were screaming their complaints to her, but she was the only one present in the empty graveyard. Well, at least until Newt's mother pulled her back to reality. The woman gently pulled her away from the trees.

"Careful," she said. "You wouldn't want to get too close to the Grove of Hawthysterias."

"The what?"

"The Grove of Hawthysterias." The woman gestured to the leafless, bone-white trees. "These trees aren't quite hawthorns. Do you know what's so special about a regular hawthorn?"

"They're used to make wands?" Penelope remembered what she had drawn for Alecto in Herbology.

"True. But they are also symbols of hope."

"The Hawthysterias are trees of despair," Newt said. "A new one grows in the grove everytime a wizard dies out of despair."

"Of course, Auntie Clara's Hawthysteria is only a new sprout. We won't fully see it fully grown until maybe a decade or so," his mother nodded. "When the wind rattles their branches, you hear the hysterical complaints of the deceased. They can get to your head faster than the cries of a baby Mandrake. That's why we came here wearing earmuffs."

So St Punica graveyard was none other than an afterlife asylum. Still, Penelope thought that the grove was below her father's cruelty. After pulling one of the pieces off her ear and daring to hear the despaired complaints from the Grove of Hawthysterias, she didn't feel that affected. The screams and cries she had thrown around in the Riddle Estate were far much worse.

Penelope took off her earmuffs. "Do these trees grow directly in the grove or do they initially grow by the graves."

"Initially by the graves," Newt's mother said. "But they are uprooted and replanted because keep them too long by their original tomb and they fall. Why?"

"I think my grandmother's buried here."

To her content, they helped her look around. As they explored the St Punica graveyard, Penelope saw that the tombs weren't organized by last name or date of death but the trauma behind the deaths. She saw sections for childbirth deaths, unfairly accused convicts, her father's own victims, innocents persecuted by Muggles who trialed witches, and so on. But finally, around the very end of the graveyard, Newt found an area she found most relatable.

A section for the broken hearted.

The dead willow she had drawn? It was actually a fallen Hawthysteria. Its roots stuck out from behind Merope Gaunt's tomb like a pack of frizzled hair. The wind still rattled the branches' complaints, which were mostly about being treated like a Squib, her family never loving her, Tom Riddle abandoning her after she removed the love potion, and her dying feeling like even her own newborn child could care less about her even if she were still alive.

"I'm sorry about your granny," Newt told Penelope sympathetically. He ripped off the vines that were growing on the tomb.

"I speak to her ghost. She's actually very nice," Penelope said. "But she said that even though she could visit me, she still had to go back to her grave. I didn't just want to go to London for my birthday. I really wanted to see where she was buried."

"Children! Come along!" Newt's mother called to them.

"One moment!" Penelope rushed to the fallen Hawthysteria, grabbed the closest branch, and ripped it off. Despite her plucking it off the tree, she could still hear her grandmother's complaints, only they were now at the level of a whisper.

...

In Penelope's perspective, the Ministry of Magic had the decency of a clean sewage. It wasn't just because of the dark and rather greenish brick work (which looked rather decent), but because the diverse of odors of wizards, witches, and creatures coming around were almost too much. Never in her life had she smelled such foulness! The purebloods had the stench of Bayen and Bellatrix Lestrange times ten, and the smell of the two reminded Penelope of how bad the basilisks' chamber smelled after Bloodyle threw up from swallowing too many dart frogs. The half-bloods and Mudbloods had the odor of pigs being dunked into the world's largest meat grinder without even bothering to pluck out the bones, making one nasty purée. To her surprise, most of the Ministry smelled of grinded pig purée.

The half-breeds, or the few she encountered, didn't smell like anything to her. It almost felt like she had passed beings who took a long shower and lost all body odor. Most of the half-breeds she encountered were either goblins working as clerks or house-elves cleaning up the office windows. She felt rather strange, watching other half-breeds work like under-paid employees while the wizards and witches who passed her, Newt, and his mother, reacted towards her as if she was the cutest, smartest toddler they had ever seen. She almost thought they had never seen a three-year-old before!

Newt's mother knocked on the door of her husband's office, a Mr. Scamander. He looked like one of those rare serious businessmen who still had enough time to give love to his family. The man took a pause to kiss his wife, ruffle his son's hair, and stroke Penelope's cheek.

"You must be quite the talented young witch!" He complimented her. "Apparating while you're only three! But you must be more careful! You could get in trouble for performing underage wizardry!"

"But she won't get too much, right Dad?" Theseus, Newt's eight-year-old brother asked. "I mean, it was just an accident."

"Of course it was!" Mrs. Scamander protested before then calming down. "Anyway, I need to quickly stop by the front lobby to report that her father accidentally lost her. He'll come pick her up."

"Yay," Penelope said drily. Either Voldemort killed everyone in the Ministry just to find her or her kills her after finding her.

"Ask for a Mr. Gaunt," Newt said. "She saw her grandma Merope Gaunt's tomb at St Punica."

"Well no wonder her father dropped her! Marvolo himself didn't like his own daughter!"

Mrs. Newt grabbed a quill and wrote down the essentials on a paper. "I'll be back," she said.

"Maybe we should wait until her dad comes to fetch her before we go home?" Theseus asked.

"Of course we're going to wait! It would be irresponsible to leave her alone!" His father scolded his son.

So Mrs. Scamander went to place the note. As she did so, Mr. Scamander went on to walk the children around the Ministry of Magic. For the moment, Penelope seemed rather bored, passing the diverse offices. The only things that seemed to interest her where the owls flying the mail in or the house-elves. When the group came into the Ministry cafeteria so that Mr. Scamander could get the children some snacks, Penelope spotted a house-elf who slipped on the floor she was moping.

"Watch it, house-elf!" A wizard spat at the house-elf.

Penelope felt something nasty in her just for seeing the creature getting offended. Without even looking at the Scamander family waiting in line, she rushed to the house-elf and pulled her up the floor.

"Are you OK?" Penelope asked the house-elf. The latter strained her ghastly straw-woven rag. Her red eyes glared at Penelope.

"A half-breed wee one?" She spoke in a Scottish accent. "I've seen everything you wizards make me look at."

"Uh, thanks?" Penelope didn't know what to make of the house-elf's rather odd tone. She sounded like she had nothing left to be happy about. "What's your name?"

"Aconite," the house-elf said as she wiped the sweat off her head and grabbed her mop.

"How exactly did you know I'm... you know... a half-breed?" Penelope asked quietly.

"You find me daft, wee one?" Aconite asked. "I've met half-breeds who have a better perspective on society than wizards twice their age! Do you think it's normal for underage wizards, barely even your height and age, to talk with the mouth of an adult? I'd have to be stupid to not notice your behavior!"

The Scamander family came back with drinks, so Aconite moved on to mop. Penelope couldn't help but look on at the house-elf as the latter left. Nobody seemed to have been paying attention.

"I got some hot cocoa for you children. Made right out of melted Chocolate Frogs," Mr. Scamander said.

Penelope licked her lips at the thought of eating her favorite candy again. They went on to sit by a fountain and go through their drinks right when Mrs. Scamander came back, carrying a paper of the Daily Prophet at hand.

"They just reported Aurors ambushing Death Eaters flying over the River Thames!" Mrs. Scamander held the paper. "A column is full of Minister Fudge denying it and claiming it was nothing but a misuse of magic!" She kindly looked at Penelope. "Don't worry. I'm sure your father came out alive."

The toddler rolled her eyes. As if her father wouldn't be alive!

"Why doesn't the Minister accept that the Dark Lord attacked?" Newt attacked.

"Don't you know anything, Newt?" Theseus rolled his eyes. "The Dark Lord's a menace to society, but he's been rather quiet lately. Rarely seen in public. The Minister wants to believe he disappeared, to enforce peace."

Penelope was baffled by how stupid it all sounded. She really felt like shouting 'Voldemort was absent because of me', but last thing she needed was to get a new bedroom in Azkaban. But still, did they honestly believe that 'disappearance' was the same thing as 'death'?

"Speak of the devil, be on your best behavior, children." Mr. Scamander tilted his head at the right and urged his family and Penelope to sit straight. A group of reporters were tailing the Minister of Magic and some woman accompanying him in the food court. Nobody else in the area dared to speak.

Penelope's first impression about the Minister? That the only decent thing about him was his hat. Compared to her father, he wasn't the type to physically intimidate. At worse, Penelope assumed, was that Fudge would slap while Voldemort would perform the Cruciatus Curse. The hoard of reporters was nothing more than a beehive following a moving glop of honey. But the woman following him? She was wearing nothing but pink, one of the few things that Penelope despised more than her father along with Bayen, Mandrake, and sleeping in the cold. The child didn't understand who would be crazy enough to cover themselves in a one-color palette that was worth vomiting. She saw Death Eaters wear dark green or pure black, Penelope had a liking for lavender purple and teal blue, and those were fabulous colors in her mind. Make the woman paint her skin in pink and she'd make a pig look prettier than her.

"Perhaps we should get going," Mrs. Scamander suggested.

"But my dear, we ought to wait until Penelope's father comes to fetch her," her husband responded quietly.

"I want to leave," Penelope said. She still looked disgustingly at Dolores Umbridge.

"We could just add to the note for Mr. Gaunt that it was getting late and that Penelope's staying with us until he can come get her..." Mrs. Scamander continued.

Penelope freaked in her mind. Last thing she needed was for Voldemort to go to the Scamander House and use a Killing Curse on them.

"There you are, Penelope!"

Penelope jumped in fear when her name was called, but then her fear turned to relief when she saw Bloodyle approaching them. The basilisk had managed to camouflage her scales so that her human appearance had a more... fleshed out appearance. She had covered herself in a floor long cloak, black gloves, and a veiled hat. Penelope immediately ran to her.

"You need to be more careful! We got so worried!" Bloodyle picked up the child in her arms and hugged her.

"I'm guessing you're her big sister?" Mr. Scamander asked.

"Yes. Our... dad got injured after the incident, so I went to fetch Penelope. Thank you for taking good care of her!"

"It was only natural..."

"Come along, Penelope! We must leave to go home!" Bloodyle immediately left, taking Penelope and not giving the child a chance to say good-bye to the kind family. As Newt was the only one to wave to her, Penelope's hand clutched the Hawthysteria branch.

She thought she had just lost a possible friend.

...

Voldemort didn't give her much of a break as the year went on. When Penelope didn't manage to kill the victim intended for her, he went back to having her kill a Mudblood. He had Death Eaters keep a constant eye on her. He even had Wormtail watch her while she was in the basilisks' chamber, but they scared him so much, the rat man chose to observe from the other side of the door. Penelope's training intensified.

The only thing Voldemort seemed to give Penelope a break on was her 'infiltration in the Ministry of Magic'. To Penelope's relief, he did not lash out at the Scamander family. No, the Dark Lord was convinced by how Penelope twisted the truth around common wizards to the point of walking openly in the Ministry of Magic and being treated like 'an adorable, innocent little girl.' It made him consider to perhaps let Penelope get more exposed to the wizarding community, since a brilliant three-year-old easily fooled them.

Around September, he was walking around his gardens when he caught Penelope using a pickaxe to hit the stones that framed her window.

"Why aren't you using magic to break the wall?" He asked as he approached her. He wasn't even wondering why on earth she was breaking a wall in the first place.

"I'm planning on planting a tree from my room," the child said, "so I'm breaking the wall to make more space for light to come through."

"Fascinating, but there are less barbaric ways of growing a tree." He had her drop her pickaxe and follow him to a deep area of the garden maze. When they reached a roundabout with a statue of Salazar Slytherin crowning the, he raised his hand to touch the forehead of his ancestor. The ground's tiles and the hedges began to move while walls grew from the ground. Once it was done, Voldemort and Penelope walked through an arched pathway that led them inside the walled area. It was nothing but a mass of unused soil.

"You can plant anything you want here. Perhaps you could even do some experimenting here after your Herbology lessons with Alecto."

Penelope merely nodded. Daring her skin for it, she pulled out the Hawthysteria branch from her dress. She went to the center of the garden and dug a whole with her bare hands. The small child kept ignoring her father's glare as she stuck the branch in the soil and filled up the hole. The branch started to grow, and by the time Penelope stood up, she was facing a small Hawthysteria tree of her height. As the wind came from above, Merope's complaints echoed in the garden.

"You've met my mother's ghost," Voldemort concluded.

"You're not angry?" Penelope asked.

"I'd be angrier if you managed to contact your mother's ghost."

It was odd, what happened later. They just sat on the earth, watching the leaves on the new Hawthysteria move as the sky turned grey.

"How did you feel, when you were walking in a cemetery full of these?" Voldemort asked Penelope.

"I felt that it was nothing compared to what I hear in your house," Penelope told him bluntly. This made him sneer gleefully. "I kind of preferred the graveyard over the Ministry during the trip to London."

"Really? How so?"

"I felt... too much when I was at the Ministry. I smelled so many wizards... So many couldn't imagine me as anything worse than a cute, innocent thing... Umbridge was revolting." Penelope shuddered in disgust at the mention of Umbridge. "And a house-elf knew I was half-breed."

Voldemort frowned. "Which house-elf?"

"Aconite. She was mopping the floors at the food court. She told me that it was easy for her to tell because I was a child... who spoke with the mind of an adult."

Her father looked like he wanted to hit something, but God knows what it was.

"Death Eaters always say that purebloods are superior in blood and magic, but why are we better than them?"

Voldemort got up. "Eventually, my little half-breed, you'll discover that we live in a world that is split by two main ideals. Everyone picks a side, but we stay in the middle."

"Wizards and Muggles."

"Power and immortality. Look at it this way: you and I are the only ones who can have power and immortality at the same time above the others. In the end, only one gets it all."

In other words, Penelope realized, he'd get rid of her if she became a threat.