twelve ; the lost love of Tom Riddle

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Diana was running, running faster than she ever thought her legs could carry her, her mind reeling with the events that had just occurred. Finally, she knew her mother's name, finally, she could ask Dumbledore questions, and finally, she was able to get some answers. She yelled the password, yanking open the door to his office, and she saw him staring idly at some papers before him.

"Diana, what are you---"

"Vera," she said. It was the only thing she could think of to say. "That was her name. Vera."

That immediately caught his attention, causing him to set the papers down slowly and carefully and his eyes to train directly onto her face. "Who told you that?" he wasn't angry; at least, he didn't sound angry.

"Severus."

He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "Why did he tell you that?"

"It was during the Occlumency session. He did a demonstration on me, and before I was able to push him out, we both saw one image."

"What was this image?"

"My father, staring at some woman with happiness. It was strange. I asked Severus about it, and he told me her name," she rushed out. Her mind was moving really fast, and she thought if she didn't tell him this as fast as she could it would be gone the next second. He didn't say anything. "Please, Albus. I'm not like Harry. I can't live without answers like you seem to think he can. Please, I need something."

He sighed, his eyes trained on the Pensieve. "Let me show you," he finally said, standing up with the grace of a much younger person.

He pulled it completely out of its closet and pulled out his wand, extracting a few electric strings of memory from his temple. "You must understand that I still have secrets that I need to keep, and that nothing will change that. But, alas, this should satisfy your gnawing curiosity for the meantime."

"Ready?" he asked gravely, his voice sounding weak. She nodded once, and they both simultaneously put their face into the liquidy gas and they delved head first into the chasm and onto solid ground.

They landed on a solid gray concrete. A much younger Dumbledore sat across a grand oak desk from a whimsical looking woman.

"I'm so relieved you could meet with me," she squeaked quickly. She was jumpy and paranoid, glancing around the nonthreatening room every few seconds. "I've seen many things about you and some other people that I find you'd be interested in."

"I'd be delighted to hear it," the younger Dumbledore mused. He seemed completely oblivious to her obvious paranoia. "You tell me it is extremely pertinent?" he asked politely, as if to push the conversation along.

"Oh, yes!" she squealed excitedly. "Very important. I have been bestowed upon with a great Prophecy from a long, long time ago. I was told to share it with you as soon as possible," she said quickly, pouring herself a glass of brandy. She offered him some, but he declined politely.

"Who told you to tell me?" he asked, watching her sip on the alcohol gingerly.

"I wish I knew! But I just listen to them because they're always right!" she quipped. "They told me of an old Prophecy, told by one of my ancestors to a great Wizard. And can you believe who it was to?" she nearly screeched in excitement, which seemed to make her jump in fright and slop some of the brandy down her front.

"I'd be delighted to know."

"Merlin!" she yelled. "That's who the Prophecy was to!"

Young Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Can you tell me what this Prophecy spoke of?"

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