“Good afternoon,” said Dumbledore, holding out his hand.

“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. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, “Oh yes. Well—well then—you'd better come into my room. Yes.”

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited

Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

“I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future,” said Dumbledore.

“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?”

There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry now saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his

velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

“Here,” said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, “I think this will make everything clear.”

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

“That seems perfectly in order,” she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a 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?” she said in an extra-refined voice.

“Thank you very much,” said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking

her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press 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.”