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"He has good reason to suspect Draco Malfoy." Deanna tried reassuring Hermione after Hermione had told her about Harry's Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. After her talk with Pansy Parkinson, Deanna had promised to keep what she knew a secret, and she would also keep her promise to Harry by keeping her eye out for anything suspicious, but apparently, Malfoy was in detention that Sunday so how had he done it?

"But still –"

"Don't worry. If it reassures you, I'll talk to him." Deanna pat her on the shoulder and cursed mentally when she saw the time. She was late already by a few minutes. "I'll catch you later, eh?" She started running towards the Headmaster's office. She was too invested in her conversation with Hermione that she almost forgot about her lesson with Dumbledore and Harry.

Hermione watched her go with a soft smile before making her way towards the common room. At least, her worries had gone away due to her talk with Deanna. She just hoped that the girl would actually talk to Harry. She was only worried for her friend after all.

"I'm here!" Deanna panted once she arrived and there was Harry and Dumbledore, smiling at her. She noticed that Dumbledore was looking exhausted when she had just seen him that morning and told him about Katie Bell. "Pops... where have you been?"

"Soon, love. In due time..." Dumbledore then tapped the Pensieve. "Let us start now. 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. 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?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

Dumbledore swilled the contents of the Pensieve and a little old man who rose like a ghost yet his hair 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 favorite 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 shook the Pensieve and Caractacus Burke went back into the memory.

"Slytherin's locket? He got it for only 10 Galleons?" Deanna frowned at that. "She needed gold, she was pregnant. Couldn't he give her a little more?"

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "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!" said Harry 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?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?" Deanna had raised an eyebrow at his question but realized that he was asking because it was unexpected of Harry to feel that way especially since he and Voldemort were destined to be enemies. She saw Dumbledore looking at her and nodded to tell him she was fine.

"No," said Harry quickly while glancing at Deanna, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother —"

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently.

"Merope Riddle had lived a life of pain and suffering." Deanna spoke up quietly. "A prejudiced and abusive family. She forced her husband to love her yet in the end, he too left. Her son needed her, but she chose death. Despite the mistake she made in forcing Tom Riddle Sr. to be with her through a love potion, we should also consider her circumstances."

"Well said, little phoenix." Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Now, if you two will stand..."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"This time," said Dumbledore as they stood in front of the Pensieve, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, love, Harry..."

Deanna's face hit the surface of the Pensieve and soon, they were in an old London street. A grin spread upon Deanna's face at the familiar surroundings.

"Excited, love?" Dumbledore chuckled at the excitement on her face.

"I missed it, Pops. There you are!" Deanna pointed at where the younger Dumbledore was crossing the road. He had long auburn brown hair and a shorter beard. He was also wearing his suit of plum velvet.

"Nice suit, sir." Harry commented, making Deanna and Dumbledore laugh. They followed the younger Dumbledore to the front of a grim building with high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered girl. "Um... just a mo'... MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder. There was a distant shout in response and the girl turned back to Dumbledore. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

The trio followed the younger Dumbledore into the hallway and a skinny woman came towards them as she was talking to another helper. "... and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets — chicken pox on top of everything else." Her voice died down when she finally noticed Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand. Mrs. Cole simply gaped. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. "Oh yes. Well — well then — you'd better come into my room. Yes." They went into a small room, and she motioned the young Dumbledore to sit on a chair.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore. Deanna now realized where they were. The orphanage Tom lived in. Wool's Orphanage.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth —"

"Who registered him? His parents?"

Dumbledore then slipped his wand out of the pocket of his suit and picked up a piece of paper from Mrs. Cole's desk. He waved his wand and made the paper fly past her. "Here, I think this will make everything clear."

"That seems perfectly in order." Mrs. Cole put down the paper then her eyes fell upon the bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before. "Er — may I offer you a glass of gin?"

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming. Mrs. Cole poured them both a generous glass of gin and drained her own in a gulp. She smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and the Professor used this to his advantage. "I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour." Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole cheerfully. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty — and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father — yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus — and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word. Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since... He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was... odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he —" Mrs. Cole cut herself off and stared at Dumbledore. "He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely.

Mrs. Cole squinted at him for a moment before speaking quickly. "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents... Nasty things..." Another gulp. "Billy Stubbs's rabbit... well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then" — Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin — "on the summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things... I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

Deanna kept her face composed despite the stares of concern Harry and Dumbledore had on her. She never knew Tom had done that but then again, she never thought he would kill Myrtle. Honestly, she wasn't that surprised anymore.

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole while standing up. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too. She let him out of the office and up the stairs, calling out instructions to the helpers and children as she passed. Deanna felt sorry for the orphans who had to grow up like this. She felt so grateful to have Dumbledore by her side.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered. "Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton — sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you — well, I'll let him do it."

The four entered the room and Deanna clenched her fists, her heart pounding against her chest. In this small bare room with only a wardrobe, a wooden chair and an iron bedstead, there was the little Tom Riddle, as handsome as the first time Deanna met him.

"Deanna?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I'm good." Deanna pat him on the back and smiled reassuringly. Tom Riddle then looked at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. A moment of silence...

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand. Tom hesitated before taking it and shaking his hand. "I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Tom warily. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?" He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Tom. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" Deanna's eyes widened at that. She frowned at the older version of her father and wondered why he never told her about this. All this time, she got into fights with him for defending Tom, not knowing he had a reason to think differently. Then again, even if he told her, she would have been the stubborn person she was and believe in the light in Tom Riddle.

Tom stopped glaring at Dumbledore who continued smiling. "Who are you?"

Tom looked furious at that, backing away from Dumbledore. "You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course — well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Tom.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "is a school for people with special abilities —"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

Tom froze at that, but he was staring at Dumbledore's eyes as if trying to catch him lying. "Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Tom excitedly. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Deanna couldn't help the hurt in her heart at that. To know Tom had been doing horrible things since he was a kid suddenly made her wish that she had met him sooner. Maybe, she could have helped him.

"I knew I was different," Tom whispered while sitting down. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Tom intently. "You are a wizard."

Tom stared at Dumbledore. "Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," commanded Tom, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —"

"Of course I am!"

Deanna jumped at the shout that came from the young version of Tom Riddle. At his young age, he was already wanting power. She suddenly remembered the prophecy. Thirst for power. Seeing him now made Deanna realize that he could have become Lord Voldemort sooner or later. No matter how much you try helping a person change, they wouldn't do that. Not if that was what they wanted in the first place.

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Tom's eyes hardened for a moment before he spoke politely. "I'm sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, could you show me — ?"

Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at the shabby wardrobe. With a flick of his wand, the wardrobe burst into flames. Tom jumped to his feet with rage on his face, but before he could say something, Dumbledore flicked his wand once more and the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe undamaged.

Tom stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe." There was a faint rattling from inside, and Tom looked frightened for the first time.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore. Tom hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore. Tom took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Tom threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Tom took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed. There was a mess of small everyday objects such as a yo-yo, a silver thimble and more. They stopped quivering immediately.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom simply stared at Dumbledore coldly before speaking in a voice just as cold. "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Tom again. His face was expressionless as he put his stolen objects back in the box. When he was finished, he turned back to Dumbledore. "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but —"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Tom, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —"

"You're coming with me?" asked Tom, looking up.

"Certainly, if you —"

"I don't need you," said Tom. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley — sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore handed Tom the envelope with the list of equipment and explained how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you — non-magical people, that is — will not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy enough to remember, as he shares your name —" Tom gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Tom. Then, , he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," muttered Tom. "It must've been him. So — when I've got all my stuff — when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Tom nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Tom said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of." They stared at each other for a moment then Dumbledore broke the handshake and walked to the door. "Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore, and a few seconds later, they were back in Dumbledore's office. "Sit down." Deanna and Harry immediately obeyed.

"He believed it much quicker than I did — I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was — to use his word — 'special,' " said Dumbledore.

"Did you have a clue then? Did you know?" Deanna asked him.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and — most interestingly and ominously of all — he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... 'I can make them hurt if I want to...' "

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings. Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Deanna and Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They were wrong and deluded. There was only one person he had let in yet he lost that person too."

Deanna knew his last words were pertaining to her so she simply sunk in her seat. It was making her confused, sad and angry... The information she had gotten that night. Seeing that Tom was already surrendering to darkness at a young age made her feel bad. She wished she could have met him sooner, maybe that could have changed something, but then, can you change a person who did not want to change? All this time, Deanna was thinking that it was her fault he turned out that way... Maybe, it wasn't all her fault. They both made their choices, they both had their beliefs. And this was what Tom chose.

"I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later."

"Now, love, if you don't mind, I'd like to show Harry one last memory before the night ends." Dumbledore turned to her. "May I show him the first time you and Tom Riddle met?"

Deanna hesitated before nodding, coming closer to Dumbledore. Harry watched her with a worried gaze. He didn't understand how she felt. All he thought of Voldemort was an enemy, the person who killed his parents, but to Deanna, he was a friend. He was her first love.

"Are you sure you're fine, love?" Dumbledore whispered with concern. He may have asked her to do so but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. At the same time, he also wanted her to understand Voldemort in order for her to fully let him go.

"Yeah, Pops. I want to." Deanna smiled at him and Harry reassuringly.

It was the truth. She wanted to see that memory again now after seeing part of Voldemort's past. Maybe it was to convince herself that there had been a chance that Tom would not be Voldemort. Maybe it was to convince herself that she was not missing Voldemort anymore. There were so many possible reasons as to why she wanted to see that memory again, and maybe it was a mix of every reason she thought of. Deanna wanted to understand, and this was what she needed.

With a nod, Dumbledore pointed his wand towards Deanna's head and Deanna felt a slight tingle where Dumbledore had retrieved the memory of her first meeting with Tom Riddle. He poured the silver substance into the Pensieve and together, they dove into the Pensieve.

Deanna smiled at the familiar surroundings. She was in their History of Magic classroom, and Professor Binns was floating in front of her, speaking with an uninterested tone. "Dumberdone, your marks in History of Magic are not even worthy to be graded of Troll. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes sir!" The young Deanna Dumbledore with a toothy smile said. She was wearing her Hufflepuff robes and honestly, you would think that

"You looked innocent." Harry commented from beside her.

"Oh, she was... So innocent that she even made a name for herself. Angelic Ariana." Dumbledore said with a hint of teasing that made him and Harry laugh and Deanna pout.

"And so, after some deliberation, I've decided to assign a tutor to you."

"Yes sir, I'll drop History – what?" Deanna exclaimed with wide eyes. The present Deanna laughed at that. She was happily expecting that she would be removed from that class, but she had the best of luck, and Professor Binns just wouldn't give up on her. If she had studied more in this subject, she would never have become close to Tom Riddle.

"Yes, now, come in." Professor Binns called out. The door swung open and Deanna looked behind her, her eyes widening once more. As handsome as he had been in the previous memory... no, his attractiveness had even grown as he too had grown, there was Tom Marvolo Riddle with a charming smile.

"Hello, professor." Tom bowed slightly to Professor Binns and turned to Deanna. Surprisingly, his smile had faltered slightly as he observed the Hufflepuff in front of him. The two of them stared at each other as if Professor Binns wasn't there. It was instant attraction, and somehow, Deanna smiled when she did not feel the speeding of her heart that her younger self was feeling in that moment.

Tom broke their staredown first and he put the smile on his face once more. "My name is Tom Riddle. I'll be your tutor for History of Magic."

"D-Deanna Dumbledore, it's a pleasure." Deanna smiled widely at him and when they shook hands, she felt her face heat up. Nonetheless, she composed herself and kept the smile on her face. Soon, Deanna felt herself soaring up and they were back in Dumbledore's office.

"He was kind." Harry said with clear surprise in his tone.

"Indeed, Harry. There was only one person who could come into Voldemort's heart. There was only one person he had ever loved." Dumbledore smiled slightly at his daughter who smiled back at him, her heart feeling lighter at that.

Deanna didn't know that understanding Tom's past and learning more about him could clear up a lot of things and could make her feel better. A lot of questions were answered, and somehow, she felt ready for the next time she would have to face Voldemort.

Harry left after asking about the ring and bidding them good night. Deanna immediately gave her father a hug. "Thank you, Pops... For everything. I love you."

"I love you too, my little phoenix." Dumbledore hugged her back just as tight. "I assume you have questions, and I'll let you ask me three for this evening."

"Okay." Deanna sat down in front of him while pondering what she should ask. "Why can I understand Parseltongue?"

"Your connection with Voldemort." Dumbledore spoke softly. "As your minds and souls are connected, somehow you can understand Parseltongue as well. It is only a guess of this old man, but it's the best I have."

Deanna just nodded and she wondered if she should tell him about her encounters with Voldemort but decided against it. "About the prophecy..." Dumbledore froze at that but he nodded to hide his nerves.

"He'll have to die, won't he?" Deanna's question made Dumbledore surprised for a moment but he nodded.

"Indeed, love. Voldemort would have to die... And he would have to repent for his sins forever. Voldemort's greatest fear is death." Dumbledore said calmly though his heart was beating faster. "And his death is the end of this war."

"I see..." Deanna nodded in response before smiling at Dumbledore. "Thank you for showing me everything, Pops. I realized I needed to know to understand. I've always had thoughts about him without even understanding him. I know that he has to die, but I still have hope that he could change before then... Or maybe, he could change in the afterlife. He also deserves to have a better life. One with a mother, a father and someone he loves and loves him back. Anyways, I know now I've let go of him. He "

"I'm proud of you, Deanna..." Dumbledore squeezed her hand with his good one. "You're grown well, love."

"Thanks, Pops..." Deanna grinned at him. "And don't include this in my questions, but you will tell me and Harry about what happened to your hand, right?"

"Yes, love." Dumbledore chuckled at that. "Don't you want to know now?"

"I do, but I think it'll be easier for you to tell me and Harry at the same time so I'll wait." Deanna grinned once more. "Now, for my last question. Do you think we can have some hotdogs for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Oh dear."

Dumbledore and Deanna shared a laugh at that. Perhaps, both Dumbledores had a rough journey ahead, but the important thing was they had each other. It was an unspoken promise between them that not one of them would ever cross fingers for. As long as they could... They would fight, all for the greater good.

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