Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“I know … it should be a love potion!” said Evan, already clear about this. “They seemed to be two completely unrelated people. Without the help of magic, they wouldn’t fall in love, let alone end up together.”

“This is also a very important part of history. Unfortunately, we can’t access the memories of the parties involved,” said Dumbledore. “But it’s not difficult to speculate that, as you said, Merope used the power of magic. Her magical powers did not appear 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 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. Yes, she was not a Squib, but a wizard capable of casting spells.”

As he said that, Dumbledore put the crystal bottle containing the memory aside and took out another one.

In a way, Merope was so similar to his sister.

But that was another sad story!

“Your reasoning just now was excellent, Evan. Personally, I am also inclined to think that she used a love potion,” Dumbledore continued. “I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. 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 believe me, the villagers’ shock was nothing to Marvolo’s. Six months later, he returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on the table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.

“From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or 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. In any case, he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage.”

Dumbledore told what happened next in one breath. These things had nothing to do with Slytherin’s ring, but they were also very critical and important. Voldemort did not want others to know about his past.

He had already begun to deal with these matters and began to sort out these memories related to Voldemort’s past.

It was really terrifying. Voldemort himself probably thought that these things had become history! But Dumbledore dug them out. He knew everything about Voldemort, even better than Voldemort himself.

Early on, when he perceived Voldemort as a threat, he began collecting this information.

This was Dumbledore; he would never be just the Headmaster of Hogwarts on the platform.

If one thought, like Fudge had done, that defeating Dumbledore was a simple matter, then they were just as foolish as he was.

That said, aside from some written experiences and increasingly blurred memories; Evan knew nothing about Dumbledore’s past. How did he acquire such powerful abilities? How did he get Fawkes, the phoenix? And what exactly happened between him and Grindelwald?

Dumbledore once told Evan that they had traveled around the world in order to gain power.

What was certain was that they had been to the Charybdis Whirlpool, the place where the Time Titan fell. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had also been there. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were definitely not there for sightseeing, what did they find?

Beyond that, where else had they been?

It was said that the phoenix could only be found in the mysterious East, where water and fire merged, where life cycled…

“You have to know that within a few months of Voldemort’s parents’ runaway marriage, Tom Riddle Senior reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife.” Apparently unaware of Evan’s distraction, Dumbledore continued, “The rumor flew around the neighborhood 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 daresay 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.”

“Well, but she did have his baby,” said Evan instinctively.

“Yes, but not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant,” said Dumbledore. “I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the love potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby’s sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. Riddle left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son.”

“How heartless!”

“Heartless, perhaps, but I am more inclined to call it human nature,” said Dumbledore. “Are you ready, Evan? I hope to see another memory before we leave, one about Voldemort’s secrets.”

“Yes!” Evan nodded.

“I hope you understand how fortunate I am to have collected this memory; it is the most precious one in all my collection,” said Dumbledore. “And it is precisely this one that can help us find the ring Voldemort set out to acquire.”

“I understand,” said Evan. “Your luck is Voldemort’s misfortune.”

As before, Voldemort probably didn’t expect Dumbledore to delve so deeply into his understanding.

“Very good, let’s do it,” said Dumbledore softly. “And feel free to speak up if you have anything to say!”

Evan entered the Pensieve; he felt the familiar sensation of falling through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty stone floor in almost total darkness.

It took him several seconds to recognize the place. This was the old house of the Gaunts.

Compared with the dilapidated house he had seen before, the Gaunts’ house was now indescribably filthy.

The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots.

The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown that they covered his eyes and mouth. For a moment, Evan even wondered whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.

This familiar action evoked Evan’s memory. He was Voldemort’s uncle Morfin.

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