Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, “Yes, I think Mr.
Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry,
I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else.
It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect,
about Lord Voldemort’s secrets.”
“No, sir, I’ll make sure it’s just Ron and Hermione. Good night.”
He turned away again, and was almost at the door when he saw it. Sitting
on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many fraillooking
silver instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a large, cracked,
black stone.
“Sir,” said Harry, staring at it. “That ring —”
“Yes?” said Dumbledore.
“You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night.”
“So I was,” Dumbledore agreed.
“But isn’t it... sir, isn’t it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?”
Dumbledore bowed his head. “The very same.”
“But how come —? Have you always had it?”
“No, I acquired it very recently,” said Dumbledore. “A few days before I
came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle’s, in fact.”
“That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?”
“Around that time, yes, Harry.”
Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling. “Sir, how exactly —?”
“Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
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