Chapter 56: A New Apprentice
The days just seemed to drag on forever…
Albus could almost feel the Dark Magic that had come from the ring spreading throughout his body almost like a poison… He was still kicking himself for that moment of stupidity…
And because of his own foolishness, he was going to die very soon. But he knew that it was his own vault that he was now slowly fading away—he knew that there was no one to blame but himself for his moment of weakness. He didn't know exactly how much time he had, all he knew for sure was that he will, without a doubt, be dead before this school year is over.
He winced in pain as he dropped his quill at the desk, cursing himself all the while. He couldn't even hold up a quill anymore without being in pain.
He pulled out his wand and used it to enchant the quill to write for him as he got up and walked over to one of his many cabinets where he kept his supply of potions that Severus had brew for him. Though these would help relieve the pain, they didn't do anything else to help him. But still, feeling the slight bit of relief as his burning hand suddenly turned numb was welcomed. He stared at the burnt fingers, feeling almost grateful that he had an excuse to leave this world and all the burdens of life soon. But…
He looked up to the window and thought back to all the happy years he had spent in this office, watching the Quidditch teams practice and play…
He smiled a little as he set the empty potion bottle down, making a mental note to tell Severus to make a few more for him. Speaking of Severus…
He chuckled a little as he returned to his desk, thinking about the expression that had been on the Potions Master's face when he told him about Harry being the only person to receive an Outstanding in his O.W.L's. As if he had been sure he heard wrong…
Albus sighed again, leaning back in his comfortable chair, fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, wondering how everything would end. Just two months ago, he finally came out and told Harry about the prophecy which marked Harry as the only one who could destroy Voldemort.
He couldn't help but wonder just when it all happened… why did he let it get this far? When did he start seeing Harry as more than just one of his students? Just last year, he made himself the scapegoat for the crimes of Harry and his secret DADA group. He had to flee the school and become a fugitive because he wanted to protect Harry and keep him in school… just when did it all take root?
And now this…
He remembered Minerva telling him that Harry had wanted to become an Auror and he couldn't say that he was the least bit surprised. But then again, he also knew that with Severus's refusal to teach NEWT potions to any student who got less than an O on their potion's OWL, Harry had no chance of becoming an Auror as long as Severus taught Potions. It was thus essential, for Harry's sake, that they get a new Potions Master. Therefore, Albus courted his own death by promoting Snape to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, simply to furnish Harry with a Potions Master who would allow him to take the NEWT-level course.
He smiled, hoping that no one else would notice this…
As tired as he was, he knew that he had to suffer through this one last year, so he made an effort to enjoy as much as he could of this castle… the Welcoming Feast was tomorrow night… he was going to savor every last bite… for it would be his last.
*Welcoming Feast*
To his relief, the students all boarded the train and arrived at the castle without any problems at all. They were all checked with Secrecy Sensors when they arrived and were all now filing into the Great Hall. He leaned back in his seat, watching them all fondly—never really appreciating just what a magical experience it was to sit here at the first night. He remembered when he first arrived here as a student all those years ago—feelings of excitement and terror were going through his body as he walked up with his fellow First-years and waited for the Sorting Hat to sort him into one of the four Houses.
The Great Hall looked much the same as it did back then… with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room was decorated with the hundreds of floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow. The only difference was the people sitting there… and he was sitting at the Headmaster's chair instead of the line of newest students.
He smiled sadly as he remembered… if someone had told him way back then that he would've spent most of his life here at this school teaching, he would've told them that they were crazy. He was a young and gifted wizard who had planned on going to the Ministry once he was done with school.
Its strange how life can sneak up on you… he was glad of his life here though. He was grateful that he had been given all these years of happiness. He smiled happily as the first years aligned up in front of them and Minerva set the Sorting Hat on the stool.
The Hat just sat there for a few minutes, like it did every year, before its mouth opened up and began to sing…
I start on quite a solemn note,
Which is very strange for me.
But when I look around this hall,
It's quite empty, that I see.
This school was once united,
But no one could have foreseen,
That it would come to this…
Now the school stands few and far between.
Here I sit here before you,
To tell you the sad tale,
Because to understand these dark times,
We must learn from the past to prevail.
When Hogwarts was first started a thousand years ago,
It was built by the Founders four,
There was sly Slytherin, clever Ravenclaw,
Followed by gentle Hufflepuff, and daring Gryffindor.
But each Founder was different,
And so in the end,
A single House was created,
For each different friend…
Cunning Slytherin was one House,
It is the House of great ambition…
A House where they valued best,
Of all pureblood tradition.
As for those who went to Ravenclaw,
They were made of different kinds,
Known for their wits, brains, and smarts…
A place where they could challenge their minds.
And then there was brave Gryffindor,
The House of the daring and strong;
It was here that they found a place,
Where they found they did belong.
And let us not forget loyal Hufflepuff,
The final House that took those good and true.
This House learned of compassion and friendship,
And that's how they pulled through.
For a while, it seemed that the school,
Would live on and be just fine,
At least until the trust between Founders,
Fell down and went into decline.
In the end, he saw no hope,
And it was Slytherin who chose to leave,
He left his friends far behind,
And it is here the school began to grieve.
But now the school is old and danger now looms,
A war is knocking at our door,
The distrust Hogwarts once had;
And that is at the war's core.
I sort you of your strengths,
But your advantage is in groups.
If we stand united once again,
To find the way out of war's loops.
Stand up for what you know is right,
But if you look out for only one,
Then you'll find very soon,
That your allies will be none.
I know sorting is my job,
But you must teach others what you know,
To know what your House stands for,
And where you have to go.
Like you all, each of these four Houses,
Have a uniqueness all its own,
Now come on up and put me on,
And see if you have a trait you've never known!
Albus sighed as he clapped along with the others. Like last year, the Sorting Hat was giving them all warning to what was coming. Once again, here was proof that the Sorting Hat was so much smarter than most.
He watched each of the First-years go up and try the hat on, one-by-one they were sorted and went running off to their table. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Hagrid sneak happily though the side door and take his seat at the end of the table.
Noticing that he was looking, Hagrid gave him a merry wave, which he returned with a smile. Albus knew what had taken him so long. After Albus learned about Grawp, he found a quiet place up higher in the mountains where he could be without restraints and find it much more comfortable than the forest.
Hagrid had been working on making him his assistant. Though Albus made sure that wouldn't happen until he was sure that Grawp was domesticated. Smiling he glanced around as each of the students, as if trying to commit everything to memory. As the newest Slytherin went running off to his table, he looked up in time to see him. Draco Malfoy—the boy who had become a Death Eater and had been ordered to kill him—was sitting there miming the shatterering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause.
He frowned sadly, knowing that Draco would never be able to go through with it. He looked back as the newest Hufflepuff was running off to the applauding table and felt a sense of grief inside him. It's sad to think at how the young believe life to be easy… but soon they discover the hard way that it is more difficult than they could ever expect. Draco may be used to strutting around the castle with his friends, but working for Voldemort and to be expected to do whatever he commanded was a completely different matter.
His eyes glanced up to the Gryffindor table and his eyes travelled along it, realizing that someone was missing. It wasn't until the Sorting was over, did the doors that led into the Great Hall opened and Harry came in—he blinked in surprise to see that his face covered with blood. He walked so fast that he was passing the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at him, he was already sitting with his friends and Hermione took care of his face.
Deciding not to draw attention to that, he stood up at the end of the feast and announced to them all, smiling widely, truly feeling more alive tonight than he had in years, "The very best of evenings to you!"
There were gasps around the room as they noticed his right hand; but rather than say anything about it, he merely smiled and shook his sleeve over it—out of sight, out of mind.
"Nothing to worry about," he reassured them all, "Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"
He went on with his speech, letting them know that any joke items from the Weasley twins new shop were now banned, that anyone who was interested in joining a Quidditch team should check their names with their Heads of Houses, and he introduced Horace as the new Potions Master.
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people stared at each other, obviously wondering if they heard right.
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Albus continued, knowing that this was going to raise some controversy, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" yelled one voice loudly over the others, but Albus didn't look towards Harry as he looked over at Severus, who was sitting on his right, raising his hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table.
Albus cleared his throat, patiently waiting until all the talk had died down before he went on, "Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."
The silence seemed to tauten and strain at his words as his eyes looked over them all—especially over at Draco who was making his fork hover in midair with his wand, as if he thought he was too good to listen in to his words.
"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe," he said, loudly and firmly. "The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."
He looked over them all before he sighed and said in his most upbeat voice, "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
He kept the smile on his face as the students all got up and made their way sleepily up to their beds. But as he also left the room, he felt his energy slowly fading and heading up to his own office felt like his limbs were made of lead.
*That night*
"Well, everyone sure is singing a different tune this year," Dexter told him as he rested at his desk. "All over the place, everyone's asking if Harry's really the 'Chosen One' or not. You should hear some of them talking."
"Yes," Albus said tiredly. "That is to be expected. Now that everyone knows he has been telling the truth, they will try to get on his good side. But tell me, do you know why he was covered in blood when he came in?"
"Tonks found him on the train," Dexter answered with a frown, "I overheard them talking about it to Ronald. Apparently Malfoy froze him and stepped on his face."
Albus sighed Dexter explained everything he heard Harry tell his friends on what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express—with Phineas laughed himself silly at the idea of Malfoy breaking Harry's nose.
"I see that he is already suspicious about Draco," Albus said softly, this wasn't good. He couldn't risk Harry getting involve in this. "Just keep an eye on him for me," he whispered, "now more than ever. If this is my final year here, then I need to be on top of everything…" he looked out at the dark sky and felt so tired before he sighed. "It'll be over for me soon."
"Don't talk like that," Dilys said softly.
"I am merely speaking the truth," Albus answered, holding up his hand so that they could see. "I'm not any happier about this than all of you are, but this is to be my fate. I still have plenty of time to prepare for everything."
He suddenly thought of something as he looked out at the mountains in the distance and was reminded of Grawp. "I noticed that they aren't taking Care of Magical Creatures anymore are they?"
"No," Dexter informed him, and quickly told him how they were talking about it as well. Albus sighed, wondering just what the future had in store for them all.
*A few days later*
Albus spent most of the next week in his office, researching as much as he could about Voldemort's past, and hopefully get a hint to where he could find another Horcrux. So far, he had made many connections, but few real leads.
He frowned heavily, feeling like he was beating the inside of his head with a bludger bat. He had to give Tom credit; he knew how to cover his tracks well. He sighed as he poured over all the memories he had been able to collect, but it hadn't been easy—he was still missing several key clues.
Something that did cheer him up was that he heard that Harry had received a detention from Severus… again.
"Dare I ask?" he asked Dilys, after a long day of research and letters to the Ministry, glad to have something to distract him.
"Oh, something about mouthing off in class," Dilys said with a smile. "That Snape never could take jokes could he?"
"Got some kind of stick up his arse," added one of the other Headmasters to himself that Albus ignored.
"Those two have sure got a lot more ferocious with each other over the summer," Dilys sighed as Albus looked away. Yes, he knew that was to happen. Severus had never liked Harry simply for who his parents were, and Harry disliked Severus for all the treatment over the years.
Of course, Harry still had no idea to just what Severus's connection was to him.
"I had the feeling that was the case," Albus sighed. He did get a bit of a surprise when he heard of the Half-Blood Prince.
"I believe that was once Severus's nickname while he was here," Albus whispered in surprise. How did Harry find out about Severus' nickname?
"I just overheard them talking about it," Everard answered. "Apparently this Potion's book is what's giving him such good marks in potions all of a sudden. Hermione doesn't seem so happy about it."
He chuckled at that. No, he had a feeling that wouldn't do anything to help Hermione. Well, deciding that now was a good a time as any, he had already given Minerva a message, to give to one of her Gryffindors to pass onto Harry, letting him know to come to the office on Saturday for the first lesson.
But later that night as he looked out at the silver moon and sparkling stars… he smiled sadly the night sky, wondering just how much more of this he could enjoy before he lost everything.
*Saturday's Lesson*
"Come in," Albus called to the knock on his door just as it chimed eight.
"Good evening, sir," came Harry's familiar voice as he stepped in.
"Ah, good evening, Harry," Albus said smiling, truly glad to see him again, "Sit down, I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"
"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry awkwardly, and Albus could see that Harry still wasn't completely comfortable around him; not that he was surprised.
"You must have been busy, a detention under your belt already!" he asked, more amused than scolding as Harry looked down embarrassed. And he then explained that he would serve his detention with Severus next Saturday.
"Right," said Harry, looking around the room, obviously wondering just what he was going to learn tonight.
Understanding the look, he asked in an organized voice, "So, Harry. You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these — for want of a better word — lessons?"
"Yes, sir," he nodded curiously.
Albus sat up in his chair and explained, "Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."
There was a short pause as Harry's eyes narrowed and said accusingly, "You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything… Sir," he added, at least trying to be polite.
"And so I did," Albus nodded, his heart racking with guilt to know that he was still holding back so much information. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."
Harry blinked at the choice of words but asked him if he believed that he was right.
"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you," Albus said a little softer, "I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being — forgive me — rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."
Yes, the damage done to this young man across from him was living proof.
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, stepping forward a little, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me… survive?"
Albus's eyes saddened a little, knowing that the odds of Harry coming out of this war alive were slim to none. But he was determined to make this plan work. "It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," he said as casually as he could muster, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."
Feeling older all of a sudden, he got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, so that he could retrieve his Pensieve from its usual place. As he came back to the desk, he noticed Harry's uneasy look.
"You look worried," he commented with a kind smile as Harry's eyes followed the stone basin, like he thought it was going to bite. "This time, you enter the Pensieve with me… and, even more unusually, with permission."
Harry looked at him in surprised. "Where are we going, sir?" he asked.
"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," he answered as he pulled out the bottle that had the memory inside it.
Predictably, Harry asked, "Who was Bob Ogden?"
"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he answered, remembering fondly of the student who had once come here not long after he started teaching. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry…"
But even as he said that, he couldn't pull the stopper out of the bottle—his hand was still very stiff and just touching something was painful for him.
"Shall — shall I, sir?" Harry asked him, staring at the hand, somehow sensing that there was something truly wrong with it.
"No matter, Harry —" he said at once, trying to brush off his injury as he used his wand to free the stopper. He was starting to feel annoyed with himself that he was forced to rely more and more on magic to do even the tiniest tasks.
"Sir — how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.
"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry," he said firmly, but gently. "Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."
Harry looked like he was about to complain, but Albus tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve. "After you," he insisted. Harry looked a little apprehensively at the memories before he slowly bent forward, and disappeared into the silvery substance.
As he disappeared, he looked down at his hand with a frown. He knew that he would have to put up a stronger front to keep him from realizing something before he followed after him, landing in the memory right outside Hangleton.
Harry was already looking at Ogden in his frock coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume with amusement. But before he could ask any questions, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane and the two of them followed after him.
They followed him in silence down the short way, down the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. He looked sideways at Harry, watching the recognition in his eyes as he looked at the church and graveyard that lay before them. Albus's own eyes soften as watched Harry looking up at the beautiful manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn.
Together, they walked on, hurrying a little faster so that they could keep up with Ogden. The lane curved to the right and when they rounded the corner, and Ogden slipped through a gap in the hedge. They followed him onto a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows down a crooked, rocky, and potholed path that led down the hill until they spotted it.
Even after all this, Albus couldn't repress the shudder as he looked at the house, remembering what happened here only weeks ago. But thankfully, Harry was so focused on the scene in front of him, didn't notice.
Soon, the ragged form of Morfin Gaunt dropped down from a tree, right in front of Ogden, who unsurprisingly jumped backwards. Harry actually took a step back in surprise as Morfin started to let out a low hissing sound.
"Er — good morning," Ogden stammered, "I'm from the Ministry of Magic —"
Again Morfin continued to hiss—though Albus had a very good idea to what he was saying. 'You're not welcomed,' or something along those lines…
"Er — I'm sorry — I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously.
Albus looked down at Harry and saw him looking at Ogden in surprise—as if he couldn't understand why Ogden didn't understand Morfin's words and he asked him quietly if he could understand him, though he already knew the answer.
"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed at the question, "Why can't Ogden —?"
But then he stopped as he thought it over, Albus watched as his eyes dart to the dead snake hanging on the door before he looked at him and asked, "He's speaking Parseltongue?"
"Very good," he answered, nodding and smiling. Now, Albus could also understand Parseltongue; but only to a certain degree. He did not know the exact words of the dialogue, but he had a very good idea to the words. Morfin was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other—almost begging for a fight.
"Now, look —" Ogden began, but too late: There was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.
"Morfin!" cried out another loud voice and just then Marvolo Gaunt came marching out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. He came to a halt beside his son, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.
"Ministry, is it?" he asked, looking down at Ogden.
"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"
"S'right," Marvolo snapped at him before he looked back at his son and asked, "Got you in the face, did he?"
"Yes, he did!" snapped Ogden.
"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" Marvolo snarled aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."
"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.
"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth," he answered as if it was obvious. Ogden meanwhile was pointing his wand at his own nose to fix the damage. Marvolo then hissed to Morfin of the corner of his mouth; clearly telling him to get in the house.
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 and slammed the front 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 pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"
"Ah, that was Morfin," Marvolo said indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.
"That's neither here nor there," said Ogden coldly, and Albus couldn't fight back the smile on his face. Ogden had always been a good student and it saddened him greatly when he learned of his death.
"Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village," Marvolo snarled, trying to insult Ogden.
"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them," said Ogden angrily. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"
"Inside?"
"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you," Ogden said slowly and clearly, "I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl —"
"I've no use for owls," Marvolo snapped. "I don't open letters."
Personally, Albus couldn't help but wonder if Marvolo could even read as Ogden went on speaking to him.
"All right, all right, all right!" Marvolo howled at him, turning and marching back to the house with Ogden right behind him. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"
Albus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, who had been watching them all with shock and repulse, and steered him inside so that they could listen. Morfin was already sitting in a filthy armchair beside the fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue. Albus fought the cold shiver that went up his spine at the house and the reminder of how close he came to dying not too long ago. Just then, he looked over to see Merope, who was fiddling around with the shelf—her hands shaking a little as she picked up a pot.
"M'daughter, Merope," he said grudgingly, as if forced to explain an embarrassing piece of artwork on the wall, when Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.
"Good morning," said Ogden kindly to her. Predictably, she didn't answer as she looked at her father in terror and went back to the pots. From her behavior, this was obviously something that she was used to doing whenever her father was around.
"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."
At his words, Merope accidently dropped one of the pots.
"Pick it up!" Marvolo bellowed at her as she quickly bent down to clean up the mess. "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 Albus frowned heavily at Marvolo, his heart now aching for Merope. Even after she pulled her wand out and tried to fix it, she ended up causing it to fly across the room and to the wall until it broke even further.
Morfin cackled at watching his father torment his sister. "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"
But Ogden had already done it for her, fixing the pot, and giving Marvolo an incredulous look—as if he couldn't believe that he would treat his only daughter like this. Rather than shouting at him, he went back to sneer at his daughter, "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs…"
Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf before she stood back, hoping that her father would turn his anger to someone else.
"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit —"
"I heard you the first time!" snapped Marvolo angrily. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him — what about it, then?"
"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Ogden sternly.
"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law'," Marvolo imitated Ogden's voice, like how a small child would just to be annoying, while Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"
"Yes," said Ogden without hesitation, trying to remind him that just because he's a pureblood doesn't make him above the law. "I'm afraid it is."
He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.
"What's that, then, his sentence?" Marvolo asked angrily as Ogden pulled out a scroll of parchment.
"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —" he informed him calmly.
"Summons! Summons?" Marvolo demanded, now almost spitting with anger, "Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"
And so the arguing went back and forth between the two, resulting in Marvolo waving the Peverell ring—the Resurrection Stone—in front of Ogden's face. The fingers on Albus's burnt hand twitched slightly just looking at the stone… his feelings conflicted. He didn't move an inch from where he stood until Marvolo dragged Merope over so that they could see the locket.
"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!" said Ogden hastily.
"Slytherins!" he yelled. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"
And all the good it did him… living in poverty with his two children completely miserable. If there was any proof needed to show how these pureblood obsession was nothing but a curse, this was it.
"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Marvolo had already released Merope so that she fell away from him to the corner as she sucked in air.
"So!" he then cried out triumphantly, "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. Albus shook his head sadly, gazing at Merope with pity and sorrow… wishing that he could've helped her escape from this place long before any of this happened.
"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden stated, trying to get back to the matter at hand. "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"— he 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 happily to himself while his father snarled in Parseltongue, and Morfin quickly fell silent again.
"And so what if he did, then?" Marvolo said defiantly to Ogden, "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot —"
True, but that doesn't change the fact that the damage had been done.
"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenseless —"
"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Marvolo, and he spat on the floor again.
"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Ogden firmly, now losing his calm attitude. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions."
He then went on to explain how Morin would then go to a hearing to answer for the attack. But before he could finish, they heard the sounds of horses right outside, which caused Marvolo to freeze where he stood. It was this sound that caused Merope to look up. That was when they watched as Marvolo learned of Merope's affection for Tom Riddle and that was when he lost it completely.
Both Harry and Ogden yelled "No!" at seeing Marvolo try to strangle her and Ogden cursed Marvolo back away from her before he ran… Morfin was on his tail with his wand in one hand, and a bloody knife in the other. Ogden ran for his life as Merope screamed in terror—Albus jerked Harry with him so that they could follow. And as they did, he knew that Harry got a good look at the man on the horse…
"I think that will do, Harry," he said, knowing that this was where the memory ended. He took Harry by the elbow until they were soaring back up to his office.
"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as Albus went around to light the extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or whatever her name was?"
"Oh, she survived," he answered truthfully, as they then took their seats. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."
"Marvolo?" Harry repeated slowly, his eyes widening in recognition.
"That's right," Albus answered, smiling in approval as Harry stared at him. "I am glad to see you're keeping up."
Harry gasped as he croaked out, quickly putting two and two together, "That old man was —?"
"Voldemort's grandfather, yes," Albus confessed. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins."
He then went to explain how the family came to live in poverty, and about the two family heirlooms that Marvolo cherished more than his own children.
"So Merope," said Harry, leaning forward in his chair and staring at him, "so Merope was… Sir, does that mean she was… Voldemort's mother?"
He nodded grimly. "It does. And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"
"The Muggle Morfin attacked?" Harry asked at once, "The man on the horse?"
"Very good indeed," Albus beamed, but he already knew that Harry would know. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."
"And they ended up married?" Harry said in disbelief.
"I think you are forgetting," Albus reminded him, "that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years." He then asked him if he could think of any way that Merope might've enchanted Tom Riddle.
"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested. "Or a love potion?"
"Very good," he answered. "Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water."
He then went on to explain how when Tom and Merope ended up running away together, how Marvolo returned to find his daughter gone and how he died.
"And Merope?" Harry asked confused. "She… she died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?"
"Yes, indeed," Albus answered. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."
"But she did have his baby," Harry reminded him.
"But not until a year after they were married," Albus informed him truthfully. "Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."
"What went wrong?" asked Harry in surprise. "Why did the love potion stop working?"
"Again, this is guesswork," Albus answered, before telling him how he believed that Merope had grown to love Tom so dearly that she couldn't bear to keep using the Love Potion. How she had convinced herself that he would stay… but in the end, he walked out and never saw her again.
He glanced at the darkening sky before looking back to Harry and answering, "I think that will do for tonight, Harry."
"Yes, sir," said Harry as he got to his feet, but stayed where he was as he asked, "Sir… is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"
"Very important, I think," he answered.
"And it… it's got something to do with the prophecy?" he went on.
"It has everything to do with the prophecy," he answered.
"Right," said Harry, a little confused as he turned to go, but as he headed to the door, he turned back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?"
Albus looked at him long and hard for a moment before he nodded in agreement, "Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trust-worthy. 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," he answered and turned to go. "Good night."
But he then stopped again. Albus looked to see where he was looking, and realized that he was looking at the ring that was sitting on the table.
"Sir," said Harry, staring at it. "That ring —"
"Yes?" he asked.
"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night," he said looking up at him slowly.
"So I was," he agreed, curious to what Harry was thinking.
"But isn't it…" he asked, "sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"
He bowed his head, unsure to how this was going, "The very same."
"But how come —?" he asked, not understanding, "Have you always had it?"
"No, I acquired it very recently," he answered truthfully. "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?" he then asked.
"Around that time, yes, Harry," he answered smiling.
"Sir, how exactly —?"
"Too late, Harry!" he called, bringing an end to the question before he could even finish, "You shall hear the story another time. Good night."
Harry looked a little surprise by that, but nodded respectfully and bade him goodnight before he left.
Albus smiled as he left, rubbing his destroyed hand unconsciously. "I forget how observant he is…" he whispered to himself, knowing that he would have to work much harder to keep him from getting suspicious.
(Not as long as most of my other chapters, but I think I'm starting to spoil you all with long ones. I hope you all enjoyed the first lesson as well as the rest of the sixth year. Hope this tides you all over until the next one.)
