Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing? He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and the Hogwarts wards told Bree that the blasted old coot was leaving the school for days a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Harry? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy, Bree had been rather curious about the whole thing and then she was disappointed.

Bree told Rita about Dumbledore's absences, and she spun it into a story about negligence and speculated the Dumbledore was making secret trips to St. Mungo's.

Bree wasn't struggling under the load of homework like the other students were, even though she had less free time to do the work. Ben was helping her get it all done, now some people, Hermione for example, may call that cheating but Ben just called it getting the distractions out of the way so they could focus on the important things and the other teachers wouldn't complain.

Bree had made more progress with her animagus transformation since she had Ben's help. He said that if she kept it up she might have it down sometime the next year. Ben had started getting Bree used to switching her weapons out quickly and using two weapons at the same time. He was pushing Bree as hard as she could go without breaking. She needed to develop certain skills in a very short amount of time. The battles were escalating, people were dying and there was no telling how long it would be until Bree would be forced onto the front lines.


The first Hogsmeade weekend came halfway through October. Bree woke up the morning of the trip to find wind and sleet pounding the windows.

Harry had found more than just notes about potions scribbled in the Half Blood Prince's book, he had found imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, the Prince had invented himself.

Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch); and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Harry had tried out a new spell on this particular morning.

At breakfast Ron talked about how he had woken up dangling by one ankle.

"... and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved," said Hermione. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Fred and George," said Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And, er-"

"My dad," said Harry. He had only just remembered.

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"My dad used this spell," said Harry. "I-Lupin told me."

This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve.

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

"They weren't hanging upside down by their ankles. For all we know it could have been a basic levitation charm."

"… Well it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you and Ron join up."

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" said Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole family are blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!"

"And they'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Ginny... It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!" He felt suddenly light and happy. "Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" he asked.

"I'm going with Dean-might see you there," she replied, waving at them as she left.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with a Secrecy Sensor.

Bree slunk past it with her perception filter. The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. When she finally reached Hogsmeade she saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up.

She made her way to the Three Broomsticks where she met George. They got a booth and ordered drinks. They talked for a while, George recalled with horror the moment that his mother had confronted him about dating Bree. After some time had passed, Katie Bell walked by. George was eager to talk to her about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but she muttered something about having to take a package to someone at Hogwarts.

"That was strange." George said as Katie left the Three Broomsticks, followed by her friend Leanne.

"Yeah." Bree replied. "Something's not right. Let's go." She got up and walked out the door, George right behind her. They quickly caught up to Katie and Leanne. Leanne was trying to get Katie to stop and tell her what was going on. Bree and George joined her. Katie wouldn't tell them who the package was for, who had given it to her, or why it was so important. They argued that it was a bad idea to transport unknown objects for mysterious persons. Out of the corner of her eye Bree saw three figures approaching.

"It's got nothing to do with any of you!" Katie exclaimed.

Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Bree, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" he shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

He began to sprint toward the school. He was soon back with help.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what -"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or-?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but George seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it! You saw what happened to Katie!"

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," he said, staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her?"

"No." Bree answered.

"She wouldn't say who it was for either, just that she had to get it up to the castle." Georgecontiuned.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on..."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"Draco hasn't left the castle all day." Bree told him.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, okay!"

"McGonagall!" said Ron warningly.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

"Hagrid says you five saw what happened to Katie Bell-upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

"Good Lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

They followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face them. "Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, and how Katie had seemed a little odd. Bree and George took over the storytelling when it became apparent that Leanne would be unable to continue.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Bree, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," said Harry, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

Bree stared at him. Dumbledore wasn't even in the castle.

"The Headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily."Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

Bree made an irritated sound. "Draco hasn't left the castle all day." She stated.

"Quite right." McGonagall agreed. "He was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.


It was late at night, everyone had gone to bed, except for Bree who was stalking the halls. Hogwarts was angry. One of her students had been hurt! Bree entered an empty classroom. Draco was lying of the floor unconscious on the floor.

"Wake up." Bree hissed, kicking him in the side. He woke up with a jolt.

"Smith! How? I was in bed!" he exclaimed.

"Yes you were, now you're not." Bree stated coldly.

"But how did you" Draco started to ask, but Bree cut him off.

"It's similar to how I forced Umbridge out of the school last year." She explained. "Now you're going to tell me how you got the necklace to Katie."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Draco replied nervously.

"Do I have to get the Veritaserum out again Draco? Do I?" Bree asked. "Because we both know you're lying. You broke a rule Draco and you're only chance of getting any sort of mercy is by telling me how you did it. So tell the truth now, before I decide to go straight to the penalty phase. You won't like the penalty phase." She said with a menacing grin.

Draco was hesitant. "I used the Imperius curse on Madam Rosemerta and told her to give the necklace to someone in Gryffindor." he finally said.

"Because Gryffindor is Dumbledore's favorite house?" Bree asked.

"Yeah." Draco muttered.

"You're an idiot. That is the lamest assassination attempt I have ever heard of." Bree stated. "Seriously, the necklace never would have made it into the castle. Any cursed item would have been picked up by Flich's secrecy sensor."

"How else am I going to kill Dumbledore?" Draco snapped.

"Are you really that uncreative?" Bree asked incredulously. "There are a number of ways to die. Shooting, stabbing, hit by a car, trampled by horses, drowning, fire, getting bit by something venomous. There are so many kinds of venom too, they can paralyze you so badly that you can't even breathe, they can dissolve your flesh, or make you bleed out from the inside."

Bree was grinning, her voice was dark and all Draco could do was stare at sharp teeth and blue catlike eyes.

"Poisons!" Bree exclaimed. "Strychnine, arsenic, death cap mushrooms, potassium chloride, and, my favorite because it's what killed Umbridge, puffer fish poison, otherwise known as Tetrodotoxin."

"But Umbridge died of some sort of medical event." Draco protest weakly.

"Oh you poor fool." Bree responded, laughing. "The poison is what induced the "medical event." Those idiots never even checked for any "muggle poison." Just because it's muggle doesn't mean it can't kill you. Human biology is universally the same. What kills a muggle can just as easily kill a wizard, you just have to decide."

Bree sighed. "Maybe I should just end the game right here if you're going to be boring and uncreative." She said.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "I can do better! I can be interesting and creative!"

"But you were so sloppy on your first try that you broke a rule." Bree pointed out. "If you're going to continue doing shoddy work…" she trailed off.

"I'll do better. No one else will get hurt, please don't end the game!" Draco pleaded desperately. Bree stared at him and thought it over for one long agonizing moment.

"Alright." She finally said, grinning. "If you're really so eager to continue playing I guess I'll keep the game going."

Draco was relieved.

"But," Bree began, Draco's apprehension returned. "Since you've already hurt someone I think I need to add another rule."

She made a show of thinking it over.

"Yes, I think that's exactly what I'll do. Rule number four: If anyone other the Dumbledore dies because of you, then you die too." She said cheerily.

Bree left the classroom. Draco left a minute or so later looking up and down the hall. Bree had apparently disappeared. Bree really loved using her perception filter.


Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Bree, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. Harry was right of course, but Bree didn't mention it, that would ruin the game.

Harry had told Sirius his theory and Sirius told Lisa. Lisa already knew of course. Bree had reported the discovery of Draco's Dark Mark to her.

By Monday evening there was still no sign of Dumbledore. Bree followed Harry when he went to Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter.

There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin; there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse -"

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," saido Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you-?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry indignantly.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief-I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right-that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother -"

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand ..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined him at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry ..."

And they disappeared into the Pensieve again.

Bree sat down rifled around Dumbledore's desk. Surprisingly she found a note Dumbledore had left for her. Well not so much her as it for whoever had left the note on his desk.

If you're reading this then I assume you have returned to leave me another note. I must say that this Doctor of yours is very wise. My life has been longer than most, and I fear that such a long life has allowed me to make more mistakes than most. I swear that I had the best of intentions, everything I have done I did for the Greater Good.

You are correct in your assumption that my life is nearing its end. I feel that I do not have much time before I move on to the next great adventure. I accept that, but I must make sure that the next generation is prepared before I depart.

Bree stared at the note for a moment. The Greater Good? What a lame excuse. She thought for a moment before writing a response.

I see now why it is that you are so alone. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and you've sacrificed everything for the sake of your "Greater Good." When you sacrifice everything you are left with nothing. But it's not just sacrifice, its stupidity. You send the members of your Order out to fight without giving them any sort of training. Is it any wonder that they die? Your hands are coated with the blood of those who died while following your orders.

If you truly accept your impending death then why don't you just die? You are doing nothing to prepare the next generation, unless you mean preparing Harry to fulfill that inane prophecy of Trelawney's. Such things are subject to interpretation and highly unreliable. The next generation does not need your guidance. We are prepared to function without you. I am prepared to do what is necessary and I will not sacrifice the innocent for my cause.

The wizarding world is convinced that Harry is the "Chosen One" who will defeat the Dark Lord. More than that, they want him to be the "Chosen One." They want him to strike down Voldemort so that they don't have to rise up and risk their own lives. You have made them weak. They expect all problems to be solved for them while they wallow in their own fear, doing nothing for themselves. Die. Make them stand up for themselves.

She left the note on Dumbledore's desk and waited. It wasn't long before Harry and Dumbledore reappeared.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry.

Harry obeyed.

"He believed it much quicker than I did-I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was-to use his word-'special,'" said Dumbledore.

"Did you know-then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and-most interestingly and ominously of all-he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... I can make them hurt if I want to..."

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly... I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry-the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," said Harry, looking around. "But I thought I you might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed. Bree moved to follow him. She paused and looked back at Dumbledore. He was picking up the note she had left.


I'm currently in the process of moving, so I don't have a lot of time to write. Sorry about any delays.