Lily Potter (Harry Potter's Twin)

Chapter 57

Published April 1, 2016

{very unedited, please comment politely if you see an error to correct me]

READ THE AUTHORS NOTE

"Get in the house. Don't argue."

Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering away to the cottage door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, as he mopped the last of the puss from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"

"Ar, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently. "Are you a pureblood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here or there," said Ogden coldly, and I felt my respect for him rise. Apparently Gaunt felt rather different. He squinted int Ogden's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if you son's been let loose on them," said Ogden. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sen an owl--"

"I've no use for owls," said Gaunt. "I don't open letters."

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning--"

"Alright, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the man room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

Hissy Hissy, Little Snake,

Slither on the floor,

You be good to Morfin

Or He'll Nail You To The Door.

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and I saw the other person in the room. A girl whose ragged gray dress what the exact color of the dirty stone wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale rather heavy face. She looked cleaner than the two men, but looked defeated.

"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly towards her.

"Good morning," said Ogden.c

Voldemort's mother didn't answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

"Well, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at her. That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall and cracked in two.