She found the ring that her father had left behind.
In that last ditch search, after she had stolen her father's prized snake locket, she almost couldn't find her family's second heirloom as their humble cottage was in a state of neglect that made her feel even guiltier. As she left the site of everything that had occurred in her life, everything she had ever known until this past year, her whole world, she didn't spare a backward glance.
She had never been to London and was terrified at first of the dirty, great city full of smoke and uniform concrete buildings. Tom had left her at her most vulnerable after nearly 38 weeks. She had hoped that seeing her in this state might have compelled him, if out of duty alone.
He was supposed to have been the gentleman that she could not resist. For a blissful year, she had been happy while he had not, but if a year's bliss was all she could have in this life then at least she sort of experienced what love was.
Merope was in London searching for the Leaky Cauldron. It was a more difficult task than expected even though she knew it was on Charing Cross. Walking was a painful chore and she frequently had to sit down on the side of the road that was wet with frost.
At last, she spied the inconspicuous entrance and was somewhat proud that she had proven her father wrong, that she was in fact a witch who belonged to their world. True to their muggle counterparts, the witches and wizards in Diagon Alley paid her little heed and no one seemed interested at the heirlooms she had come to pawn.
At last in a section called Knockturn Alley, she sold the snake locket at Borgin and Burke's for 10 galleons glad to be rid of the somewhat frightening trinket. She remembered as a young girl she never liked looking at it.
No one was interested in her father's ring despite Merope's best efforts. At last, she returned from the day with a small treasure in her pouch and rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron.
For the following month, she stayed in her room and bed and waited. It was dusty and cold and Merope didn't know how to light the fire with her wand. She hadn't told the barman she was pregnant as she didn't want others inquiring as to the father.
For this reason, she ruled out giving birth at the wizarding hospital and she never asked any person where it could be found. Instead, with her money running out she left the Leaky Cauldron on New Year's Eve 1926.
Merope didn't want to end up in wizarding prison for giving a love potion to a muggle and forcing him to have a child with her. Her father was in wizarding prison and Merope didn't want to see him there. According to her father, miscegenation with muggles was also illegal under all circumstances. So hating the harm she was putting on her baby, she walked through the thickening snow in search of a place in the muggle world where she could give birth.
She must have fainted because all she could remember next was lying in a rough cot with grey blankets in a small room lit with dim candles and a midwife she did not know.
Her breath was haggard and she struggled with so much pain that she had never experienced. Hours later when her labour was completed she collapsed from exhaustion and blacked out completely conscious only of the very bloody sheets.
"-left to die." She suddenly could hear voices. They were slurred.
"-think she will wake. Her-"
Merope forced herself awake despite the pain. She wanted to know if her child had lived.
The matron of the orphanage was a severe looking woman who began to lecture her but she refused to listen. She knew she didn't have much time left. She wasn't in a state to even attempt magic, not that she knew how.
"Pluse gimme moment width him," she wheezed and began coughing violently and felt her lungs were on fire.
The old woman's eyes softened and wordlessly she passed the baby, her son, to her arms.
"Alune," Merope repeated insistently and the women reluctantly departed from her bed after a short whispered conversation that she couldn't make out.
She stared blearily at her son's face and realised she could not see properly as her vision failed her and she saw stars instead.
She was still wearing the ring that was her father's. Merope supposed it could pass for a very odd wedding ring for the impoverished person that she was.
She opened it and there rested an odd little black stone which Merope at first in her naiveté thought was a jewel and tried to sell. The storekeeper had laughed at her if she remembered correctly.
It was glistening in her hand and Merope instantly knew she was about to die even before she could name her son. As a wave of immense tiredness fell over her, she found herself wishing to be reunited with her mother who had died when she was only seven years of age.
Suddenly, her mother was before her deathbed. She was shining brilliantly and was no mere ghost. Merope tried to reach out a hand to touch her, to feel this fantastical vision of her mind but she could not move.
Her mother spoke and as she did so collapsed into tears.
"My dear child," she sobbed, "you are far… far too young for this."
"I'll be joining you soon mother," Merope croaked still trying to feel her presence. "Not much longer now."
"But what about your son," she exclaimed. "Is he to grow up among muggles in an orphanage?"
"You have betrayed your own kind, Merope." Her mother reproached her firmly but fairly and Merope's heart swelled. She hadn't remembered falsely; she was so much unlike father…
"Why did you stop giving that potion to your husband just before you gave birth?" she continued. "Now you have doomed both yourself and your son."
"But I'll see you soon, yes?"
Her mother's eyes shone with fondness and Merope felt loved like she was a little girl once more. It was never like this with Tom. Now she knew the difference.
"Do you know how you have summoned me from the spirit realm, Merope?" She shook her head blandly. "It is our family's secret. We possess an ancient stone that can bring back loved ones… but only temporarily…"
"I've never seen father use it."
"He could not bear to use it after my death," her mother pressed on. "It can transport souls across dimensions. And it will be the key to saving your son's future."
"Give up your life, Merope. Don't try and save yourself as there is little hope there. Sacrifice your life and your child will be protected."
"You have no money to raise a child, Merope and no living relatives will take in the son of a muggle."
"There is still time enough to save yourself as you may use a little magic which will alert wizards and witches to your presence. They still have the means to save you yet in spite of your condition."
"However, if you will accept your death the resurrection stone will take your sacrifice into account."
"Should your son be abused and unhappy in the future, the stone will take him away to another life where he will be far better off…"
"Can I trust this stone," Merope asked with trepidation, "How can I trust my son's life with a piece of stone?"
"You can trust in me, my child. You have always trusted in me. And there is nothing more I can do for my grandson or my only daughter in this life."
Merope's mother faded from her sight as the other women reentered the room speaking in hushed voices. Merope looked at her wand, which had belonged to her mother on the bedside table, and then made her choice.