"Or herself," said Hermione, irritably. "It might have been a girl. The handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boys -"
"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," said Harry. "How many girls have been Princes?"
"What if it's not a title?" Teddie asked, appearing between the library bookcases. She was carrying two books under her arm, along with a folder full of parchments. ", what are you talking about?"
"None of your business!" Ron snapped, eyes narrowing.
Teddie ignored him, her eyes focused on Harry.
"Remember how in Potions I didn't have any supplies?" Harry asked.
Teddie nodded.
"Well, the book I had from the supply cupboard is what helped me win that competition that Slughorn set," Harry explained. "This was written on the inside cover. I didn't notice it at the time."
"Property of the Half-Blood Prince," Teddie murmured.
"Yeah. Well, Hermione seems to think it's a girl," said Harry with a shrug. "But, I -"
"There was a woman who lived on my street, she died when I was very young, her named was Eileen Prince," said Teddie. "Now, I'm not saying the book belongs to her, because as far as I know she was a Muggle. But, whoever this book belongs to, Prince could be a surname." She shrugged. "If you want, I can ask Mason to check Wizarding surnames."
"No, it's okay -" Harry started, but Hermione interrupted.
"That'd be great! Thanks, Teddie!"
Harry scowled at her.
"What do you want, Green"? Ron asked. "Snooping, as usual, I see?"
"I'm actually wondering why Harry is sitting here when he should be on his way to Dumbledore's office," said Teddie. "It's nearly eight."
Harry swore and checked his watch. He then jumped to his feet, scrambled to shove all his belongings into his backpack, and swung around to face Teddie. "We should go," he said, panting.
"Wait, we?" Ron echoed. "What do you mean 'we'?"
"You didn't tell him?" Teddie asked, eyeing Harry closely.
Harry shrugged.
"Tell me what?" Ron asked.
"I'm taking lessons with Harry and Dumbledore this year," said Teddie. "Dumbledore thinks it would be beneficial for me."
Ron's jaw dropped open.
Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be nodding. "It's only fair," she agreed. "I mean, you and Harry do seem to be connected to all the bad things that happen. It's only fair that you get taught defensive magic, too."
"You think that's what Dumbledore will be teaching us?"
Hermione shrugged. "You should get going. You're going to be late. Good luck!" and she waved them out of the library.
~X~
Harry and Teddie slowed to a jog as they rounded the corner to Dumbledore's office. The stone griffin loomed into view as they halted outside it, the warm glow from the burning candles at its rear made it seem that the stone was coming out of a fireplace.
"Acid Pops," said Harry.
With a grinding noise, the gargoyle slid aside and the spiral steps behind it started to slowly move upwards. Harry stepped on and held his hand out to Teddie, she took it, stepping onto the step beneath him.
Harry knocked when they reached the top.
"Come in."
Harry pushed open the door and led the way inside. "Good evening, sir," he said.
"Ah, good evening," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Come in and sit down. I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"
Teddie nodded as she sank into one of the high back chairs.
"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry.
"You must've been busy, a detention under your belt already."
"Er," Harry hesitated.
"In Harry's defence, Professor," interrupted Teddie. "It was a misunderstanding. It's a natural response to defend oneself when someone else has pointed a wand at you. We're only starting Non-verbal spells, how was Harry supposed to get it right on the first try?"
Dumbledore held up a hand to silence her. "I am not angry, Miss Green," he said, reassuringly. "Merely observing."
"Oh," said Teddie.
Dumbledore smiled at her, still. "I have arrange with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead, Harry," he said.
"Right," said Harry.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, fingers clasped together and resting under his chin. "So, you have probably been wondering, I'm sure, what I have planned for you during these - for wand of a better word - lessons?"
Harry and Teddie nodded. They had each spent time with their respective group of friends, going over different scenarios of what Dumbledore could be teaching them.
"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you, Harry, fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."
Harry and Teddie shared a sideways glance.
"You said at the end of last year that you were going to tell me everything, sir," said Harry.
"And so, I did," said Dumbledore. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."
"But you think you're right?" said Harry.
"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me-rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger. "
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me. . . survive?"
"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive. "
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry and Teddie, who turned to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of the two students.
"You look worried," said Dumbledore.
Teddie shrugged. "Not worried, per sae," she said. "More confused. I don't understand how I am relevant to these lessons. The prophecy spoke of how Harry and Voldemort are linked, and that one must kill the other in the end. I don't understand where I come into it, or even if I do. You speculated that I may be the power mentioned, but you also said there were two other possibilities."
"I did indeed," said Dumbledore, settling himself back into his chair.
"So, what if you show me all of this and it turns out I'm not the power that the prophecy disclosed?" Teddie asked. "This could all be a complete waste of time."
"Maybe," said Dumbledore, nodding. "But, I have a feeling that it is not. Shall we continue and then decide that later down the line. And," he added, as Teddie remained cautious, "if it does turn out to be a waste of time, at least you will have a better understanding of your heritage, too."
"I thought that is what Caroline was for?"
"She is," said Dumbledore. "This heritage is linked to you through your father - Lord Voldemort, or rather, Tom Riddle, as I knew him to be."
Teddie sighed. "He's not my father," she murmured.
~X~
Teddie landed beside a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to mole-like specks; they were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not.
"Who is he?" Harry asked, landing behind Teddie. Dumbledore stood behind him.
"That would be the owner of these memories," said Dumbledore. "His name is Bob Odgen. "He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties"
Bob was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand side of the road. He was also wearing the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in this case, a frock coat, and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume.
"Great Hang - Hangleton?!," Teddie shrieked, spinning around to face Dumbledore. "But that's -"
"Where you were kept for two weeks at the end of fourth year, yes," said Dumbledore.
Teddie swallowed as she watched Bob Odgen take off at a brisk pace down the lane. She was shaking when she felt Harry's hand touch her shoulder, and turned to face him, terror sweeping throughout her whole body.
"It's okay," Harry said, soothingly. "You can't get hurt here. Besides, you've got me and Dumbledore. We won't let anything happen to you."
Through her tears, Teddie forced a smile and took Harry's hand as he offered it to her. He linked his fingers with hers and squeezed, leading her down the lane after Odgen.
They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them.
Little Hangleton was nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn.
Odgen had broken into a reluctant trot due to the steep downward slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride, causing Harry and Teddie to jog to keep up. The closer they got to the village, Teddie's heartbeat faster and faster, her breathing shortening as her hands clenched tightly into fists, her palms sweating in anticipation and fear.
She understand the concept of this being a memory, but that didn't help the fearful response she got to the village where she had learned the truth. While everything leading up to the big reveal hadn't been perfect, but she never would've guessed she was the daughter of a powerful dark witch or wizard.
Thankfully, at least to Teddie, when Bob Odgen reached the end of the street he turned swiftly to the left and ducked down an obscure side lane which run adjacent to the village.
Teddie let out a small sigh of relief as she felt her muscles relax. She was not going to Little Hangleton. Not again.
The narrow dirt track they were now on was bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows. The path was crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened at the corpse, and small group came to a halt.
Odgen removed his wand.
"Look," said Teddie, pointing at building that had been concealed amongst a tangle of trees. It was a strange location to build a house, and Teddie couldn't help but wonder if the house had been there before the grove had become overgrown? Maybe the grove belonged to the property?
As they grew closer, Teddie took in the house more clearly. It had moss covering every inch of its walls and so many tiles had fallen from the roof that the wooden beams beneath were visible. The house was more run down than hers back home in Spinner's End, her family didn't have much money to spend on redecorating, but at least their house was weatherproof and homely. This place was clearly a dump.
"Do you think anyone lives -" Harry broke off as a billow of black smoke filted out through an open window. A clear sign that someone was inside the building, and probably, by the looks of it, doing an unbelievably bad attempt at cooking.
Odgen moved forward quietly and cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake.
Then there was a rustle, followed by a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree. He landed directly in front of Odgen, who leapt backward so fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.
"You're not welcome."
The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several teeth were missing, and his eyes were small and dark, and seemed to stare in opposite directions. On anyone else, Teddie noted, it would've probably been comical, but on this man, it was downright terrifying.
"Er — good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic -"
"You're not welcome."
"Er — I'm sorry… I don't understand you," said Odgen nervously.
Harry frowned and turned to Teddie; she was staring at the man with wide eyes. "You understand him, right?" he asked.
"He's speaking Parseltongue," Teddie said.
"He is?" Harry asked, eyes wide.
"Correct, Teddie," said Dumbledore.
Harry looked from Odgen, to Dumbledore, and then back at Teddie. "How did you know?" he asked.
"I'd recognise that confused stare anymore," said Teddie. "You had it the first time you discovered you could talk to snakes, and my friends, they've got over it now, used to have it when they caught me talking to Merlin and Morgana."
The man in rags was now advancing on Odgen, knife in one hand, wand in the other.
Instinctively, Teddie tightened the muscles in her legs until the burned, her whole body rocking forward and then backward as she prepared to launch forward and intercept.
"Now, look -" Odgen began, but too late: there was a bang, and then Odgen was on the floor, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.
"Morfin!"
An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. The man was short than the first, and oddly proportioned. His shoulders were extremely broad and his arms over-long, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey.
He stopped beside the man he had called Morfin and looked down at Odgen. Morfin, on the other hand, was howling with laughter.
"Ministry is it?" the older man asked.
"Correct! And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"
Teddie gasped, her eyes wide. She now understood what Dumbledore meant when he had said that, if these memories didn't reveal her to be the power that prophecy was describing, at least she would understand her heritage a little better.
These two men were Gaunts, and the Gaunts were her ancestors.
Harry frowned at her.
"S'right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"
"Yes, he did!" snapped Odgen.
"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself.
"Defend himself against what, man?" said Odgen, clambering back to his feet.
"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."
Odgen pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow puss, and the flow stopped at once. From the corner of his mouth, Mr. Gaunt ordered Morfin to go back inside the house, and to do it without argument.
Despite looking like he wanted to argue, Morfin lumbered off back inside, slamming the door in his wake, after his father shot him threatening look.
"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Odgen. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"
"Ar, it was. Are you pureblood?"
"That's neither here nor there," said Odgen coldly.
Mr. Gaunt squinted. "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village," he said.
"I don't doubt it if your son's been let loose on them. Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"
"Inside?"
"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl -"
"I have no use of owls. I don't open letters."
"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Odgen tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning -"
"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"
The inside of the house was a lot smaller than the outside portrayed. It consisted of only three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as the kitchen and living room combined.
Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue.
"Hissy, hissy, little snakey,
Slither on the floor.
You be good to Morfin
Or he'll nail you to the door."
Teddie turned to the sound of scuffling in the far corner of the room. Her eyes found a young girl wearing a ragged gray dress, she was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans. Her hair was long and dull, and she was pale, and while she looked cleaner than Morfin and Marvolo, Teddie could tell she was completely and utterly defeated.
"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt.
"Good morning," said Odgen.
Merope didn't reply and with a frightened look at her father, turned her back on the room.
"Well, Mr. Gaunt, to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle last night."
Merope dropped one of the pots and it hit the floor with a loud clatter.
"Pick it up!" Gaunt roared. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck!"
"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Odgen in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchy scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in two.
Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter.
Gaunt screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"
Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Odgen had lifted his own and said firmly, "Reparo." The pot mended itself instantly.
Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Odgen, but seemed to think better of it: instead, he jeered at his daughter, "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs. . . "
Without looking at anybody or thanking Odgen, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.
"Mr. Gaunt," Odgen began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit -"
"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so, what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him-what about it, then?"
"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Odgen sternly.
"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Odgen's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"
"Yes," said Odgen. "I'm afraid it is."
He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.
"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.
"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing -"
"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"
"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Odgen.
"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Odgen now, with a dirty, yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"
"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt," said Odgen, looking wary, but standing his ground.
"That's right!" roared Gaunt.
Teddie watched as Gaunt raised his hand, showing an ugly black stone on his middle finger. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pureblood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"
"I've really no idea," said Odgen, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed -"
With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. Again, Teddie's muscled tightened, and she poised herself ready to lunge forward in defense of Merope.
"See this?" Gaunt bellowed at Odgen, grasping a fine golden necklace around Merope's neck and dragging it, and her, across the room. He shook the heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.
"I see it, I see it!" said Odgen hastily
"Slytherins!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"
"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Odgen in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air.
"So!" said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible disputes. "Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all-more than you can say, I don't doubt!"
And he spat on the floor at Odgen's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, her head bowed, and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.
"Mr. Gaunt," said Odgen doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information" — he glanced down at his scroll of parchment— "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives."
Morfin giggled.
"Be quiet, boy," snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.
"And so, what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Odgen, "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot -"
"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Odgen. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenceless -"
"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.
"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Odgen firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Mugg -"
Odgen broke off.
Teddie turned toward the open window as the sound of jingling and clopping of horses echoed inside. Laughter followed.
Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry, while Merope raised her head, eyes wide, and her face chalk white.
"My god, what an eyesore!" said a female voice. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"
Teddie grit her teeth. While she may not have been the Gaunt's biggest fans, especially after everything she had just witnessed, she didn't appreciate the tone of voice coming from the girl outside. It reminded her too much of the rich kids back home, they always liked to taunt Spinner's End kids about having the money to demolish the entire village of Cokesworth, if they so wanted, leaving anyone and everyone who lived there homeless.
"It's not ours," replied a male voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village -"
The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder.
Morfin made to get out of his armchair.
"Keep your seat," said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.
"Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong— but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"
"Good lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son, I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling."
The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.
"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. "'Darling, he called her. So, he wouldn't have you anyway."
Merope was so white she looked ready to faint.
"What's that?" said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. "What did you say, Morfin?"
"She likes looking at that Muggle," said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. "Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night-"
Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly, "Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home, wasn't she?"
"Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" said Gaunt quietly.
All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Odgen, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.
"Is it true?" said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two toward the terrified girl. "My daughter-pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin-hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"
Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.
"But I got him, Father!" cackled Morfin. "I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"
"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!" roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.
"No!" yelled Harry and Odgen at the same time, while Teddie and thrown herself across the room. She squeaked as she sailed straight through both Marvolo and Merope, crashing into the wall of Dumbledore's oval office.
~X~
Teddie winced as she clambered back to her feet. She raised her hand, pressing it against the bump that had started to form already on the side of her head. She should've realised that something like this would've happened, who throws themselves into the middle of a fight that had happened years before?
"Are you okay, Miss Green?" Dumbledore asked. He stood at the edge of his desk as Harry rushed to her side.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," said Teddie. "Sorry, Professor, I don't know what came over me…" she shook her head. "I saw what Marvolo was going to do, and I don't know, instinct took over, I guess."
"It was a natural response, Miss Green," said Dumbledore. "I admire your desire to defend Merope."
"I don't like anyone being bullied," said Teddie. She smiled at Harry and squeezed his hands.
While she had reassured him that she was okay, Harry still held firmly onto Teddie and helped her back to Dumbledore's desk. He only released her once she was sitting comfortably in one of the high back chairs.
"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or whatever her name was?"
"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk. "Odgen Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Odgen, received six months."
Harry glanced at Teddie. "How did you know his name was Marvolo?" he asked. "You also recognised them fairly early one. How?"
"Marvolo Gaunt," said Teddie. "He was Voldemort's grandfather on his mother's side. My great-grandfather." She turned to Dumbledore. "That woman - Merope - that was my grandmother, wasn't it? And Morfin, my great-uncle."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, my dear, do you understand now why I wish for you to sit in on these lessons?" he asked.
"Caroline intends to tell me about Avery," said Teddie, "and you intend to tell me about Voldemort."
"I'm glad to see you're keeping up, Teddie," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather more than his daughter."
"The man on the horse," said Teddie. "Was that -?"
"Tom Riddle Snr," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Yes, Teddie, that was your grandfather."
Teddie shivered. "I hate him already," she said. "Him and the woman he was with. They remind me of the spoilt rich kids I grew up with. They only cared about their money and what it could bring them and tormented those of us who didn't have any."
"Merope and Tom Riddle Snr ended up married?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"I think you are forgetting," said Dumbledore, "that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years. Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"
"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested. "Or a love potion?"
"Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion," said Teddie. "It would be much more romantic for her."
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, nodding.
"It also would not have been very difficult to get him to take it, either," said Teddie. "She could've persuaded him with a glass of water one hot day, when he was riding along. He wouldn't know that it was laced with a love potion."
Dumbledore nodded. "In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter, Merope. But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done."
"Can't imagine he'd have been pleased with her choices," said Harry.
"From all that I have been able to discover," said Dumbledore, "Marvolo never mentioned Merope's name existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death— or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."
"And Merope? She . . . she died, didn't she?" Harry asked. "Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?"
"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumour flew around the neighbourhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I dare say he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."
"But she did have his baby."
"But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."
"I dislike him even more," said Teddie. "I don't care if she tricked him into marrying her, you don't abandon your child, regardless of the circumstances."
"What went wrong?" asked Harry. "Why did the love potion stop working?"
"Maybe she stopped giving it to him?" Teddie suggested. "Over time, a potion does wear off. Merope would've have to keep administrating it. Maybe she got fed up with doing that, or maybe she thought he would stay with her simply because she was pregnant?"
Dumbledore nodded. "I, too, believe she thought that he had grown to love her despite the effects of the love potion," he agreed. "We now know, on both accounts, that she was wrong. He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled himself to discover what became of his child."
"Starting to sound vaguely familiar," said Teddie. "I mean, regardless of all the effort that Professor Snape and Caroline did to disguise me as a normal Muggle, Avery had the means to find me if she wanted to. For eleven years, she searched high and low for her master, without a care that her daughter was out in the world somewhere."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Avery may not be capable of love, and neither is Voldemort," said Teddie, "but, they're happy to want me simply because of the power I can offer them."
The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.
"I think that will do for tonight," said Dumbledore after a moment or two.
"Yes, sir," said Harry. He got to his feet but did not leave.
Teddie offered him a confused look as she turned away from the desk. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.
"Sir," said Harry, turning to Dumbledore. "is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"
"Very important, I think," said Dumbledore.
"And it. . . it's got something to do with the prophecy?"
"It has everything to do with the prophecy."
"Right," said Harry. He turned to go, and then turned back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?"
Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets. "
"No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Good night."
"That goes for you, too, Miss Green," said Dumbledore. "You may only tell your inner circle."
Teddie nodded. She hadn't planned to tell anyone except her friends, anyway. Apart from Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Astoria, and Mason, everyone else was too afraid of her to care.
The two students headed for the door. Teddie grasped the handle, pausing only as Harry gasped. She turned to see him staring at a little spindle-legged table that supported several frail-looking silver instruments.
"What is it?" Teddie asked.
Harry didn't reply. He merely turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, that ring -?" he started.
"Yes?" asked Dumbledore, looking their way. He was sitting behind his desk.
"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn the other night."
"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.
Teddie furrowed her brow as she looked between the two. What did this have to do with anything they had just discussed? Besides, she was starting to get tired. She still had a ton of homework to get through before tomorrow morning.
"But isn't it. . . sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Odgen?"
Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."
"But how come. . . have you always had it?"
"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact. "
"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"
"Around that time, yes, Harry."
Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.
"Sir, how exactly-?"
"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight."
Harry sighed and turned to Teddie. She met his gaze and shrugged, still terribly confused by what Harry and Dumbledore were talking about. "Goodnight, sir," he mumbled.
"Goodnight, Miss Green," said Dumbledore, pleasantly.
"Goodnight, Professor," Teddie replied. She twisted the doorknob and pulled open the door, stepping out ahead of Harry and hearing him close it behind them.