Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 37: Heritage

"Blood protection," Dumbledore hissed out, digging his nails into the edge of his desk. "How does the boy have blood protection of all things?"

On his perch, Fawkes squawked indignantly at the anger he sensed in the room, ruffled his feathers, and turned to face the wall.

"Someone would have had to have . . . died for him, out of love," McGonagall answered, wildly motioning with her hands. Seemingly realizing that she was in danger of hitting something, she stilled her arms and laced her fingers together in her lap.

"But who? Who died for him?"

The transfigurations professor shook her head and fidgeted with her teacup. "Anyone could have. A very loyal Death Eater, maybe, one like Bellatrix Lestrange. Things were very dangerous during 1980, for both sides."

"That would have been out of loyalty," Dumbledore snapped. "Not love."

"His mother, then," she countered after a moment. "He said she died. Maybe she . . . sacrificed herself for him . . . out of love. With Voldemort as his father, who knows what may have happened? We need to know who she is. But, since the boy isn't talking, I'm not sure how we can go about finding out."

Dumbledore smiled a slow, sly smile, one that most definitely did not belong on a former Gryffindor.

"Oh, Minerva, I believe we can find out who Mr. Riddle's mother is, and quite easily. He won't even know we know." It was left unsaid that Dumbledore already had a very good idea as to who, exactly, had given birth to Harry Morfin Riddle. There were too many coincidences for him to not notice. The same birthday, the same first name, the same eyes. Now evidence that whoever she was had been noble enough to sacrifice herself. It was a wonder that no one else seemed to have figured it out.

McGonagall looked confused. "How? A spell wouldn't-"

The headmaster opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small jar which contained several jet black hairs.

"Severus assigned a potion that required the brewer's own hair. Quite difficult for the first years, if I recall. There were several exploding cauldrons. In the chaos of everything, Severus had to evacuate the classroom to take some students to the hospital wing and didn't manage to clean up until much later. I slipped in and grabbed a sample of Mr. Riddle's hair." Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "And with this, all it takes is a rather simple spell to determine whose son he is. It was used extensively after the war with Grindelwald to return unidentified children to their parents. It should work perfectly."

Dumbledore twirled the jar around in his fingers. Despite there being enough evidence for a rationally thinking person to come to the same conclusion he had about Riddle's heritage, he was sure that someone like Sirius Black would refuse to believe it. The man did have such a way of missing the obvious, especially when it came to his friends. To Black, Lily Potter was a saint, and believing this theory would shatter that image irrevocably.

"Yes, I suppose that would work," she said slowly. "Though, even then, it may not help us very much."

"Possibly not. Possibly so." Dumbledore paused. "Does Mister Longbottom know that he is currently friends with the son of the man who is responsible for his parents' insanity?" The question had formed in his mind from seemingly nowhere, and it was out of his mouth before he knew it.

McGonagall was shaking her head. "I hardly think so. They certainly wouldn't be as . . . chummy . . . would they?"

"No," he said slowly. "No, I suppose not."

After another minute of silence, Dumbledore spoke. "Arrange an Order meeting, for sometime soon. At Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Remus are living there, currently, aren't they?"

McGonagall nodded. "They had a rather disgusting insect infestation at their usual home."

"Insects or Walburga Black's portrait? I'm not sure which I'd choose."

Minerva laughed lightly, and Dumbledore nodded at her to leave.

After the door shut, he frowned and looked intently back down at jar.

"You are such a riddle, Mr. Riddle. One that I intend to solve."