“How’s the girl from the shack doing?” Harry asked the moment he found his footing. “The one named Merope or something?”

  “Oh, she survived,” Dumbledore replied, settling back into his chair behind the desk and gesturing for Harry to sit as well. The figure in grey robes found a seat in the corner without a word. “Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned fifteen minutes ter with reinforcements. Morfin and his father resisted arrest, but both were subdued and taken into custody. They were tried by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record for attacking Muggles, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, for assaulting Ogden and several other Ministry officials, received a six-month sentence.”

  “Marvolo?” Harry repeated, puzzled.

  “Yes,” Dumbledore said, smiling slightly. “I’m gd you’re following along.”

  “That old man was?”

  “Voldemort’s maternal grandfather, yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Marvolo Gaunt, his son Morfin, and daughter Merope were the st remaining members of the Gaunt family, a once ancient and powerful wizarding bloodline, known for their instability and violent tendencies. Due to generations of inbreeding, those traits only intensified with each generation. They were irrational and obsessed with grandeur. As a result, the family fortune was squandered long before Marvolo’s time. As you saw, he ended up impoverished, foul-tempered, and deluded with pride. He owned two family heirlooms, which he treasured more than even his own children, certainly more than his daughter.”

  “So… Merope,” Harry leaned forward in his chair, eyes fixed on Dumbledore. “She’s... Sir, does that mean she was Voldemort’s mother?”

  “Yes,” Dumbledore said simply. “And we even caught a glimpse of his father. Did you notice?”

  “You mean the Muggle Morfin attacked? The one on the horse?”

  “Exactly,” Dumbledore said with a small, amused smile. “That was Tom Riddle Sr., a rather handsome Muggle who often rode past the Gaunt shack. Merope Gaunt had a deep, hopeless infatuation with him.”

  “They actually got married?” Harry asked in disbelief. He couldn’t picture those two coming together in any way.

  “I suspect you’re forgetting something,” Dumbledore said gently. “Merope was a witch. While she lived under her father’s tyrannical rule, her magic was likely stifled. But once Marvolo and Morfin were locked away in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, I believe her powers began to flourish. She likely saw it as her chance to escape the hell she’d endured for eighteen years.

  “Can you imagine what she might have done to make Tom Riddle abandon his Muggle sweetheart and fall in love with her?”

  “A Love Potion?” Harry guessed. “Or the Imperius Curse?”

  “Good thinking. Personally, I lean toward a Love Potion. I imagine she found it more romantic, and easier to administer. Perhaps one hot afternoon, when Riddle rode by alone, she offered him a drink of water… Whatever the method, a few months after the scene we just witnessed, the vilge of Little Hangleton was buzzing with scandal: the local aristocrat’s son had run off with the pauper girl Merope Gaunt.”

  Harry blinked. That kind of gossip would have spread like wildfire.

  “But even the vilgers’ shock paled in comparison to Marvolo’s. When he returned from Azkaban, he fully expected his daughter to be waiting with a hot meal on the table. Instead, he found an empty shack, thick with dust, and a farewell note saying what she had done.

  “From everything I’ve gathered, he never spoke of her again. Never acknowledged her existence. The disgrace of her abandoning the family may well have contributed to his early death, or perhaps, quite simply, he never learned how to cook. Azkaban had weakened him, and he died before Morfin was ever released.”

  “And what about Merope?” Harry asked quietly. “She… died, didn’t she? Voldemort grew up in an orphanage.”

  “Yes,” Dumbledore said. “From this point, we can only make educated guesses, but I believe they’re sound. A few months after eloping, Tom Riddle returned to Little Hangleton, without his wife. Neighbors whispered that he cimed he’d been ‘deceived’ and ‘tricked.’ I imagine he meant under magical influence, though of course he would never use those exact words, lest people think him mad.

  “The vilgers concluded that Merope must have lied, perhaps ciming she was pregnant to force him into marriage.”

  “But she was pregnant.”

  “Yes, but the child wasn’t born until a year ter. When Riddle left, she was already carrying Voldemort.”

  “What happened then?” Harry asked. “Did the Love Potion wear off?”

  “That’s one possibility,” Dumbledore said. “I believe Merope truly loved her husband. And I think she could no longer stand keeping him under enchantment. She may have hoped, naively, that he’d grow to love her in return. Or perhaps she thought he’d stay for the child. If so, she was wrong on both counts. Tom Riddle abandoned her and never looked back, never sought his son, never even asked.”

  Night had fallen completely outside. The lights in Dumbledore’s office now seemed even brighter.

  “I think that’s enough for tonight,” Dumbledore said after a pause.

  “Yes, sir,” Harry replied. He stood but hesitated, gncing at Dumbledore, then at the figure in grey.

  “Sir…” Harry began uncertainly, “do you really think learning about Voldemort’s past is that important?”

  “I believe it is crucially important,” Dumbledore said firmly.

  “Does it have something to do with the prophecy?”

  “It has everything to do with the prophecy.”

  “I see.” Harry still looked puzzled but seemed reassured. He turned to leave, then stopped again and looked back.

  “Sir, may I tell Ron and Hermione everything you’ve told me?”

  Dumbledore studied him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yes. I believe Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proven themselves trustworthy.”

  Harry nodded, but he didn’t leave. He seemed to be struggling with something else.

  “You’ve got more to say?” Dumbledore asked.

  “I… yes, sir,” Harry said, taking a breath. “There’s one more person I’d like to tell, Anne Laurence-Stark from Slytherin.”

  Dumbledore tilted his head slightly toward the grey-robed figure, who had just lifted their head and was staring directly at Harry.

  “You understand the gravity of what you’ve learned tonight?” the figure said, voice low and raspy, tinged with annoyance. “These may be the only clues that lead to Voldemort’s defeat.”

  Harry’s voice steadied. “I do, Sk?ll.”

  “I didn’t realize Gryffindor and Slytherin had become so close,” Sk?ll said sharply. “Why her?”

  “Anne’s different from the rest, not like Malfoy at all,” Harry said. “You might not know, but in the first year she helped us guard the Philosopher’s Stone. In second year, she was with me when we entered the Chamber of Secrets, she destroyed the diary with a basilisk fang. Third year, she helped Hagrid defend Buckbeak’s case. Fourth year, she helped me, directly or indirectly, with two of the Triwizard tasks. That st one? I survived thanks to something she gave me.”

  Harry paused. “Last year… yeah, she called me out, sure. But it was to stop me from always going head-to-head with Umbridge. And she helped Hermione a lot. Which, indirectly, helped me.”

  “And that proves what, exactly?” Sk?ll challenged. “Slytherins are known for ambition, cunning, and self-preservation. Maybe she helped you for her own gain.”

  “I know she’s pragmatic, yes,” Harry said. “Hermione and I discussed it. But we both believe Anne is trustworthy. She even helped the twins pull off that prank st year. And she gets along really well with Hermione. That alone tells me she’s not some blood-purity fanatic.

  “Plus, her parents suffered under Voldemort too. She sees things from a broader perspective, sometimes clearer than we do. Hermione says Anne is someone we can trust. I agree. Whenever we had questions, we’d ask her. If this prophecy means I really have to face Voldemort, I believe Anne can help.”

  Sk?ll narrowed their eyes. “Did you come up with all that on your own?”

  “I…” Harry gnced at Dumbledore. “Mostly, yes. Ron, Hermione, and I talked about it back at the Burrow. We all agreed, if you gave permission, we’d ask Anne first. If she agrees, then we’d tell her.”

  Sk?ll was silent. Dumbledore gave the grey figure a gnce before turning to Harry.

  “You may tell her,” Dumbledore said. “But I ask that you tell no one else beyond the three of them.”

  “I won’t, sir. I promise, just the three of them.” Harry beamed.

  “Wait,” Sk?ll cut in. “Why do you trust a Slytherin?”

  “This isn’t about her being Slytherin,” Harry said simply. “As Hermione said: She’s Anne. That’s why I trust her. That’s all there is to it.”

  Sk?ll studied him deeply. Harry’s expression was calm, sincere.

  “Go on, then. Back to your dorm. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Sk?ll.”

  As the door shut behind Harry, the figure in grey removed their hood and mask.

  Anne’s voice returned to normal, Dumbledore had pced a spell on the mask to disguise it.

  She rubbed her temples, looking half-exasperated and half-amused.

  “Now I understand. This Gryffindor brand of blind loyalty really does run deep.”

  Dumbledore chuckled. “It’s not blind. We trust those who’ve earned it, and we’re rarely wrong.”

  “Fine,” Anne sighed, rising to her feet and stuffing the cloak into her bag. “It’s te. I’m heading to bed.”

  “Of course,” Dumbledore said, standing as well. “If you have any concerns or requests, do let me know.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I fully intend to milk every st bit of value out of this little privilege,” Anne replied with a grin.

  “Delighted to hear it.”