Daisy Potter and the Weapon (Book 6, Harry Potter ff)

Chapter 9 - Sex and Orphans

Harry and I were back in Dumbledore's office.

"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." Dumbledore said. "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?" Harry said.

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke." Dumbledore said. He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as I 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 favourite 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?" Harry said indignantly.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity." Dumbledore said. "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!" I said 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?" I said.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

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

"No." I said quickly. "But she had a choice, didn't she, not like our mother -"

"Your mother had a choice too." Dumbledore said gently. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Daisy. 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 us 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, twins..."

I bent over the Pensieve; my face broke the cool surface of the memory and then I was falling through darkness again... Seconds later, my feet hit firm ground; I opened my eyes and found that me, Harry, and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.