3. Bob, Whispers, Trouble, and Other Paraphernalia: Part1

A/N: Bits and pieces are from the Half-Blood Prince mainly dialogue, so spoilers ahead if you haven't read the book! (If you haven't, go read it!) :)

Bob Ogden, a rather tubby old man with greying hair made his way down the pathway that lead it's way to the Gaunt's household. His stubby feet encased in browning shoes, stamping the gravel, with a most satisfying crunch. Bob, having worked at the Ministry of Magic for the majority of his life, was used to this kind of childish and pointless muggle torment. It was kind of pathetic, wizards praying on helpless muggles, but nevertheless, there were always the weird ones in the bunch.

He had had word, from the ministry, whilst doing his usual rounds at the office that yet another spot of muggle torment had occurred again, last night. So with tempers raised, he set off for the prosecution of Mr. Morfin Gaunt of Little Hangleton.

It was a hot summer's day and the flies were out, buzzing around and around as Bob followed the path. At last the path winded out to the side, and coming out of it stood the stony, dilapidated house, famed legacy of the Great Salazar Slytherin.. or so they all thought.

Of course, after the handsome Tom Riddle had been attacked last night, the Ministry had detected the use of magic in front of a muggle and rushed to the site immediately. Sure enough, there was Tom Riddle, still bewildered and distressed, hands all over the head. The medics immediately cleared his memory, and healed his face, all in the matter of a flick of the wand. They crept into his manor and tucked him into bed, and knowing that when he woke up, he wouldn't remember anything.

This was now the hard part; Bob Ogden's role in apprehending the guilty and bringing them back to the ministry for further hearing.

Tom Riddle woke with a start. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he shook his head, trying to shake the images of a crazy man brandishing a wooden stick at him. The wooden stick had emanated a strange unnatural blue light and then his face had burned. The vision had seemed so real. He shuddered, tracing his hands over his face, which was (now) thankfully bare smooth.

His mother and father, was of course Little Hangleton's most talked about people. Rich Mr. and Mrs. Riddle who were snobby and flaunted their wealth to the population of Little Hangleton never mingled with the townsfolk unless needed to (for some reason or another) and it was usually to scam them somehow. And then their son Tom Riddle, who was quite arrogant, but knew how to swoon and treat the ladies. No, no one was quite good enough for this family, for at the moment at the height of their wealth, they were unreachable and certainly unattainable especially to the common-folk who lived in the town also know as Little Hangleton.

There were always whispers and gossip at the local pub, the townspeople, it had to be said, loved talk and were often heard swapping rumours about Mr. and Mrs. Riddle's dear son Tom Riddle, galloping around with sweet Cecilia of Great Hangleton where her parents were lord and lady. Of course, this was the match practically made in heaven, where handsome Tom, the Squire's Son was with the beautiful brown haired and dole-eyed Cecilia; both of rich parentage and of stable upper-class families. Something, some of the townsfolk may admit to wanting, but could never have.

Bob was now nearing the house, the setting sun giving an unnatural ethereal shine on the place. Bob shivered and moved cautiously, though stumbling occasionally on the irregular grown tree roots. The cottage itself emitted an unnatural sense of atmosphere, where it was one of forlorn despair. Then from overhead, a scraggly man with matted hair dropped down from the ancient dishevelled oak tree, in front of the house and landed with a loud thump on the mossy ground.

'Er – Good Morning.. I'm from the ministry and', Bob started awkwardly, rather taken by surprise by the sudden entrance.

He was cut off however when the man sent a torrent of hisses and spits at him, waving his hands about that revealed a dagger in one hand and a wand in the other.

"You're not welcome here"

"I'm err sorry? I don't understand you", Bob said nervously, eyeing the wand uneasily.

The man however glowered back at him. Here was this tubby man, having no business at all at the Gaunt House and refusing to leave. He took several steps towards the man so that they were almost face-to-face. Ogden espied the danger he was in and stepped nervously backwards, his feet trailing the mossy floor. Morfin not to be deterred, raised his wand, muttered an inaudible incantation, there was a bang, and Bob was sent spiralling to the floor. His face now bore a sick yellowy pus.

Marvolo, face full of irritation, came speeding out of the door, banging it behind him and yelled out in a raspy voice "Morfin!"

Morfin, was cackling maniacally at the sight of Ogden on the floor. Marvolo took one look and seemed to understand: Ministry of Magic.

He voiced his thoughts 'Ministry is it?'

'Correct' replied Ogden angrily. 'And you are Mr. Gaunt of Little Hangleton?'

Marvolo nodded tartly.

Merope was still inside the house, cooking and peering subtly at the commotion occurring outside. She had guessed right. The ministry had come, which also nearly guaranteed that Riddle was okay. She couldn't really explain the feelings that she had for Tom Riddle. He just captivated her, in a way that she would constantly think about him. He was alluring, he was someone she found she couldn't stop obsessing over, like where he was, what was he doing? Though she rarely ventured outside of the house to the village pub or library or shops or whatever, the moments in which she did catch a glimpse of the beautiful Tom Riddle, left her in a state of wonder and awe.

No one had ever made her feel this way. But how could he if she they had never even once shared a conversation? No, she had always been deprived of love, she couldn't exactly say she loved her father, though it almost broke her heart to think about it. He had abused her and Morfin for countless years and though this affected her dearly, there was a small part inside her that knew that someday, somehow she would escape the hellhole she was living in.