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"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, 'ello, 'Arry," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most un-convincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."
"It's five to eight, I'd better go, I'll be late for Dumbledore."
"Of course I am!"
Chapter 13: The secret riddle
Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very handsome, dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl riding beside him on a gray horse roared with laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, his frock coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the lane.
"I don't need you," said Riddle. "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.
She watched them go through the door of the Three Broom-sticks. The moment he was inside, Harry burst out, "He was nicking Sirius's stuff!"
"But she did have his baby."
"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him — what about it, then?"
Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently the winding lane to the village passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white.
"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!"
"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."
"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."
And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.。