The Secrets of The Sighted (Golden Trio Era) {3}

Heirs of Slytherin

Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish. Mikayla remembered that feeling vividly and her heart ached for the woman. "Mr Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit-" "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?" Mikayla couldn't believe someone could be so stuck in his ways, "Morfin has broken wizarding law," Ogden stated sternly, "Morfin has broken wizarding law," Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?" He questioned Ogden, "yes, I'm afraid it is."

Ogden pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it. "What's that, then, his sentence?" asked Gaunt, his voice rising angrily. "It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing-" This enraged Mr Gaunt, "summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?" Ogden informs Gaunt that he is the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. "And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest, Mikayla instinctively grabbed Harry's arm for comfort. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr Gaunt," Ogden stated, looking wary, but standing his ground, Mikayla was very impressed by the man's bravery. "That's right!" roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realised that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I've really no idea," said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr Gaunt. Your son has committed-" With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran towards his daughter. For a split second, Mikayla thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her towards Ogden by a gold chain around her neck. "See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath. "I see it, I see it!" Ogden spoke hastily, hoping that the necklace would be dropped and Merope would be left alone. "Slytherin's!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"

Mikayla was in shock, she wanted nothing more than to save Merope, "Mr Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope, she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air. "So!" said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all- more than you can say, I don't doubt!" And he spat on the floor at Ogden's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.

"Mr Gaunt," said Ogden doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information," Ogden glanced down at his scroll of parchment, "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives." Morfin giggled. Gaunt snarled something in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again. "And so what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden. "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot-" Ogden interrupted Gaunt, "that's hardly the point, is it, Mr Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenceless-"

"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Gaunt and he spat on the floor again. "This discussion is getting us nowhere," stated Ogden firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Mugg-" 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 towards the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if she had stood in the room beside them. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?" "It's not ours," said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village-" The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair but his father shouted a warning at him and he froze, "Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong- but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?" There was a pause, "good Lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son, I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling." The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.

They held a conversation in Parseltongue, Mikayla got the impression that they were discussing the boy and by the fear in Merope's eyes, it was clear that she was in love with the boy. Merope was so white, it felt sure she was going to faint. Gaunt was looking from his son to his daughter. A vicious expression played on Morfin's face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly. All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping. Gaunt tone dropped sounding almost dangerous before he took two advancing steps towards the terrified person. Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

Morfin was cackling as Gaunt roared at Merope, losing control, his hands closed around his daughter's throat. Mikayla, Harry and Ogden yelled "No!" at the same time. Ogden raised his wand and cried, "Relashio!" Gaunt was thrown backwards, away from his daughter, he tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back. With a roar of rage, Morfin leapt out of his chair and ran at Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes indiscriminately from his wand. Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and they obeyed, Merope's screams echoing in Mikayla's ears, her heart sunk as she heard the cries. Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted on to 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 grey 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.