Chapter One
An Outbreak of Madness.
With Her abusive father, and demented brother being hauled off at that very moment to Azkaban by the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Bob Odgen;
Merope Gaunt quickly realized what limited her to this dingy, mediocre existence had gone out the door with them.
"Are you quite alright my dear?" The man asked, stepping back into the dusty kitchen, holding his hand out to help her from the dirt.
They could still hear the delusional rantings of Marvolo, perhaps going on about his pureblood status and how surely this would be enough to gain him position above such meaningless "laws", accompanied by a distinct hissing, which, no doubt was Morfin, taunting the snakes as they went. Their voices trailed off in the distance, and silence followed the three tenuous pops associated with their disapparition.
"M'fine" she mumbled.
Merope seemed to slide up the wall as she got to her feet leaving Bob's hand hanging awkwardly – his arm went limp and swung at his side.
"He..they…" she started, almost talking to herself, still amazed at the idea of freedom from all those horrific years abuse.
"Have they gone forever?" Merope asked with a slight hint of, what Bob could only interpret as malice.
"Oh no," he replied, "I'd expect your fath-DON'T-CALL-HIM-THAT!" Merope spat across him ferociously.
Odgen stumbled, as though thrown off by some invisible barrier into what appeared to be the living quarters of the tiny shack. He shot back to his feet with an odd sort of hop-step and, keeping an eye on this shadow of a woman, reached slowly for the inside pocket of his frock-coat, bringing forth a particularly old looking pocket watch - Noting the time, and where he just so happened to be still standing awkwardly, he stuffed the watch back into his jacket and stepped across the dirt-floor through the kitchen towards the door.
Removing the inch-thick lenses from the bridge of his nose he proceeded to contemplate yet another bizarre circumstance he'd walked into that day; opening his mouth substantially he attempted breathing on the lenses to wipe them clean. He had just helped this girl, saved her life if he wasn't mistaken. He had never seen such a sight in all his years at the ministry.
Then again..
He thought as what events had just taken place, seemed to finally occur to him.
Who could blame her for associating the memory of Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt with nothing but pure hatred?
He stole a glimpse out of the dirt-spattered window, envisioning Morfin holding a snake to his face, spitting that foul language at it.
"Marvolo, then?" he asked turning back towards Meropes rather blank expression.
She said nothing.
"Right, Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt have been taken into custody as you very well know, and are currently awaiting trial with the Wizengamot."
"Considering the circumstances," He continued, taking care to note the slightest smirk at the corner of Meropes mouth with the mention of her brother and father being hauled off by ministry personnel, "I trust they shall be brought to certain justice, but I don't expect life sentences for the pair of them."
He finished speaking and as he did so, keen on getting out of this hovel and away from Merope quickly as his legs would allow him, started again.
"Well you can expect a letter by owl this coming Monday referencing every detail to your er.. Marvolo and Morfins Ministry hearings, I bid you farewell Ms…Gaunt."
Before Merope could say anything in response Odgen turned, wrenched the door open and briskly stepped out of the cabin, shutting the door behind him with such force, he shattered the one, dirt smudged little window in the shabby hut, leaving Merope beside herself with nothing but her thoughts and a wand she could barely use.
Still shaking from the nerves, she waited in the dim lit kitchen, gazing through the newly splintered shards of glass sticking out of the window molding. She watched the man walk down the beaten path almost completely out of sight and he too, spun into nothingness with a somewhat more defined crack than his ministry fellows.
Merope fumbled for her wand and, not even sure what she wanted to do with it, gave a nasty, jittery flick. The kitchen cupboards sprang open, expelling their contents to the dirt-floor with a series of dull thuds and an earsplitting crash which followed one final warped cauldron, smashing amongst the rest of the random objects that now littered the floor.
She was used to making things like this happen; having gone her whole life without a day of proper training she was never very good with a wand, however wands weren't necessary, not for the plans set in her mind.
No, all she would require were the proper ingredients and correct instruction, everything else needed, lie on the floor right in front of her.
Merope would sort out the finer details later she had more present matters to attend, finding means of transport out of Little Hangleton being first on the list. She swept to the rickety wardrobe in the corner opposite the kitchen and, nearly ripping the fragile doors right off their rusted hinges pulled out a ragged, worn looking travelling cloak, and a broom with singed bristles bent in every which direction; not to mention the crack half-way down the middle of the rather stumpy, gnarled wooden handle.
Merope had never so much as lain finger on a broom before tonight but it didn't matter. Seeing no other alternative in travel this broom would have to suffice. She would fly to London, destined for a place she had only heard of in passing.
"The Leaky Cauldron, was it?" Yes that's it, she thought to herself.
"Fancy yourself a visit to Diagon Alley then? They'll kill you for leaving you know, deserting your proud pure blood heritage… such traitorous actions will not go unpunished."
Where did that come from?..
"Always watching, waiting, hoping to catch a glimpse of that muggle, isn't she.. favors that dirty veined freak of nature Tom Riddle over a proud, powerful pureblood wizard.. doesn't she?"
Merope dropped the broom and cloak as she spun around expecting to see Morfin standing there, though she already knew the answer to this.. She felt her lips move, her vocal chords vibrate – that was not her voice.
In a panic Merope blurted the first thing that popped into her head.
"You're not real! You've gone off to Azkaban I watched you go."
"Who is it you believe you are speaking with my dear Merope? You are after all, the only one in the room.."
Merope let out a nervous shutter, and realizing she'd sank back to the floor in the midst of this extremely confusing argument which, couldn't have been with herself, sprang to her feet and began raking through every crack and crevice of the hut for a quill, some ink, and whatever parchment she could find - she felt it necessary to leave a note behind when she left this decrepit cabin for good.
Almost immediately she found a quill on the table next to Marvolos blood drenched knife alongside the locket of Salazar Slytherins, with the ornate S, etched into the face.
he must've stuck one of those ministry people with that knife in all the commotion..
Searching by dim candle light she excavated the remainder of the hut, only to find a scrap piece of weathered parchment under the wardrobe which she brought over to the table, along with, astoundingly, three sickles and twelve knuts she found in an ancient, ragged coin purse. Though it wasn't much, this was more than she had ever been able to call her own her entire life.
"What good is your wand if you can't use it you useless sack of squib? Go on use a summoning charm crazy, you know the spell.."
Merope was utterly baffled as these words slipped from her mouth.
What is happening to me? She questioned desperately.
"What sort of trick is this? Show yourself!"
This wasn't happening, it couldn't happen.. Some nameless face hidden in the darkness beyond the cabin had to be putting these thoughts into her mind, there was no other explanation because she, no matter how mentally diluted by all the years verbal abuse and near torture, would not accept the possibility she might indeed be going crazy.
Thinking it might actually be a good idea to attempt a summoning charm, she raised her wand once again and, stumbling over her words blurted, "Acc-accio ink!"
She heard a muffled burst coming from inside the wardrobe and not entirely sure she wanted to find out what had caused the noise, reluctantly stepped towards the chest of drawers once more.
She could feel heat emanating from the cabinet as she grasped the handles to open the doors. The hinges broke clean off and Merope was left standing with two sticky blackened pieces of wood. There was a horrible smell comparable to burning rubber mixed with melting plastic coming from the acrid substance.
Her eyes moved from these thickly black-coated doors to the inside of the wardrobe itself.
Plastered to the entirety of the interior, in a mass of shining blackness, a thousand shards of broken glass gave the wardrobe a freshly menacing look.
Her clumsy spell had caused the only ink bottle in the house to heat up so rapidly that it exploded, leaving the entire contents of the wardrobe coated in burnt ink and bits of melted cork.
Instead of faltering at the sight of this, Merope let out a mirthless blood curdling cackle "You stupid girl…its accio, ACCIO! Not Accaccio. It truly is a wonder you haven't blown yourself up already with all that shotty wandwork!"
She was on the verge of pulling her hair out at this criticism, even though these words came from her own mouth. Failing to comprehend what evils were currently waging war inside her head, she chose to ignore this most recent unintentional outbreak.
Merope crossed back through the kitchen and slumped into the wobbly, wooden chair at the table with her face in her hands.
She was completely alone she knew that to be almost certain, yet her head swam in disembodied voices, feeling as though it might just explode from all this disorienting rubbish she let out a cry of contemptuous fury, scratching at her face with her dirty fingernails.
The voices subsided with this outburst and as they did so the muscles in her jaw unclenched. This was not a good sign.
Just twenty minutes ago she had found herself free from the torment that came with being the only witch in the Gaunt family, and now it were as if she'd never be alone again..
She opened her eyes and saw the knife still fairly wet with blood, dripping over the quill which Merope guessed was probably plucked from the hindquarters of a crow.
An idea struck her full in the face she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of this before. She reached for the wrinkled parchment, dusty black quill and Marvolos completely blood-colored knife.
Blood's thick.. much thicker than ink, surely it could serve the same purpose though..
She smoothed the parchment as best she could and drug the tip of her quill across the glistening blade. Pausing for a fraction of a second to think, she pressed the crimson tip of the quill to the bit of parchment and began hastily scribbling her final words to Marvolo Gaunt.
Marvolo,
I took your locket. You know…the one that belonged to that Slytherin bloke. I don't know if you actually went to Azkaban but I'm not waiting around to find out. I hope you did though, I hope you died in there…I hope one of the dementors they say guard that place had your soul for dinner. But if you still draw breath when your sentence has finished.. If the dementors passed you over because of the wretched taste your soul leaves in their mouths, If you somehow find your way back to this cabin I want you to read this note.. I wanted you to know that I took your locket, and I destroyed it. I wanted you to come home and find the only thing you ever truly loved in this world gone forever. And I want you to know the pain you feel for your poor family heirloom is nothing, compared to the suffering you put me through every single day. I took your locket and you'll never get it back, and I also had some re-decorating done I think it looks much gloomier around here you should like that atleast…
With all the hate I can pour into this parchment,
Merope.
She wouldn't really destroy the locket of course, she might find some use for it and after all, it was a beautiful piece, she had seemingly very quickly grown quite accustomed to the weight of the oval casing hanging from her neck. She just wanted to crush whatever will Marvolo might have to live after whatever the future held for him; whether that be only a few months in Azkaban, or a fate worse than death at the hands of the Dementors.
"Great choice of words, Merope! I suspect once he does find you, he'll make your death quick and painless for that comment about his soul tasting foul…though that's hardly an insult I understand.."
After several long, breathless moments Merope broke the silence between herself and well..herself and spoke in a slow whisper.
"Who…are…you..?"
"Oh my, who are we?"
Grinding her teeth she chose again not to respond, still hopelessly grasping to the idea that this wasn't happening.
"We go by many names my child.. Vorkantu, Abraxas, Mephistopheles.. for now however you may call us Sitri, any more confusion in this feeble mind might shatter it completely and we simply can't have that yet Merope, you see…We have many plans set in motion, and you shall be the human who realizes our goals for us; but now is not the time for all that so…Enjoy having your mind to yourself for a while, we'll speak again sometime soon."
A feeling of sheer terror rose from the soles of her feet to the ends of her frazzled hair as this final conversation, for the time being that is, played itself over and over inside her head. She couldn't bring herself to move, this was all too much to take in.
After ten minutes of her butt being glued to this seat the feeling came back to her legs, the blood seemed to rush back into her sunken face and her heart beat seemed less erratic with every intake of breath.
Having felt she'd wasted enough precious time she stood, and walked back to where she had dropped the tattered cloak and should-be retired broomstick. She approached the front door not stopping to take a final look at her home of eighteen years. Merope flung the cloak around her shoulders, not even bothering to shut the door behind her as she stepped into the cool midnight air.
