INTERLUDE-Graveyard in Little Hangleton, 50 years ago.
The woman walked through the graveyard in a dream, she knew the path well.
As she reached the tombstone, a young man was standing by a newly erected memorial, head bowed. As she approached, he looked up. His eyes were red, from crying.
"Hello." She gasped. He was so handsome.
"Hello." He said, his eyes not leaving her face. She was entranced.
She gestured to the tomb he was standing in front of. "I'm sorry."
He wiped the tears away. "Don't be. I'm not."
She tilted her head, confused. He smiled radiantly. "How old are you?" he asked, gently.
"24" she lied. She knew she looked far younger than she was, but her wise eyes told a different story.
He smiled again, believing her. "You're beautiful."
She blushed, but did not look away. "So are you."
"Would you like to go somewhere, away from here, or are you visiting someone?"
"No." she said, instantly, but then looked at the flowers in her hands. "Ok, my, er, grandfather. But I just came to drop off these."
She took his outheld arm, tossing the flowers onto the grave she was visiting. It read:
Harold Ralph Potter, rests here, beloved husband of Callidora, father of Ralph.
While the new grave next to it, read:
Thomas Riddle, will be missed.
Callie took one glance back at the grave, shook her head and carried on walking with Tom. This way she could forget.