Case#7 Singsby Gamp/ Cherry Tree Lane

The little flat was the same as he had seen it on his first visit. Mrs. Riddle talent was shown on each pillow and her half done tapestry on her loom in the corner where the kitchen merge in to the living space. It was a scene out of history of the four founders. Rowena's charming face was the only one finished. Her tummy bulge in the fashion of the day.

Admiring her handy work he glace in the corner of a etch Salazar, his robe seem to be taken up most of the time away from his face and open hands. Under his soft cloth feet was a symbolic image of a skull and a serpent coming out of its mouth. Death? He swore he had seen that image before.

All of the members seem to have some picture word as well. None as striking as Salazar's. In loopy stitch words Mr. Riddle had dedicated the finish work to her son's seventh and finally year of school. With all her love.

Pulling himself away from the loom he peek in every cupboard and through her lone truck at the foot of her bed. With luck he found her paper work. If one could call it such. Some fancy stationery papers and a bronze key to a vault in Gringotts. A certificate of birth for a Tom Marvolo Riddle at Wool's orphanage. A parchment of payment to St. Mungo's for a cosmetic processor done to her eye's. And a handful of bills mark paid.

Moody dug deeper in to the hope chest finding photos of a growing Tom, children artwork, progress reports and a bundle of letters tied by a ribbon. Sitting cross legged on the floor he undid the knot and flip through reading the names in the corners. Letters from her son but also anther from some one else at Hogwarts. Moody open one and began to scan through one:

~Your choice of fabric was dead on my dear. I never thought to use bidding potion on my sock garters! Why you are not in a line of magical work is beyond me. Slughorn might know of some thing. I'm sure not having attended school would matter little. I wish you would came to a show, I think you might like the theater.~

Prof. H. Beery

Mrs. Riddle had not attended Hogwarts, or school? Odd. How would a witch with no magical parents learn potions? Maybe Professor Beery would explain since he seem to be the only one who knew her intimately enough to write. The old dog, Moody chuckled.

Moody took a letter at random, and older one. From Tom to read:

~How could you have not told me? You knew all along about the snakes and you never told me once. I had to come here and learn it! I thought we were normal?~

"What are you doing?"

Moody looked up at a thin man with a stern face. He wore a frock coat of deep moss green, he held his glove rather then wear them. A umbrella in the other hand. A face that could never have looked young or in good spirits.

He would later learn Mr. Twatting was the business side of Twifitt and Twatting. Unlike his partner in all as in looks. Where Twifitt was warm and round, femininity and gentle; Twatting was cold and thin, masculine with an old world hardness to him. Part of a old business family who muggle branch touch in to banking. He had set up more then just a clothing shop but a life style which the elite sought to copy.

He had taken his good name to mark the store as above and far from common or basic. All with a touch of class. Mr. Twatting had traveled to Paris, Cairo, New York to gather the latest fashions from the top designers.

"What may I ask are you doing?" said Mr Twatting, he seem unafraid of Moody, or perhaps it was a well engrained show of breeding.

Getting to his feet Moody drop the letter back in the truck. "Worry not Squire, I'm here on Auror duties."

"I see, and duties which extend to reading through personal letters?"

"I could ask you why your in Mrs. Riddle's private rooms?"

"You could," said Mr. Twatting "You'll be wasting your time. May I ask why any Auror would call upon my reputable store. Besmirching our good name?"

Moody could see where Mrs. Riddle got her paranoia from. He was sure Mr. Twatting was a piece of work to be around let alone to live in his store.

"I believe your employ is in great danger." he said

"I suppose I might have been wrong. One can never know when dealing with a nervous woman."

"Mrs. Riddle had come to you when she was first being stalked?" said Moody

"No, it was Mr. Twilfitt she first when too. Being the more open to emotions like her self, Mrs. Riddle was more drawn to be open to him. The only time I was concern was when my workers were being called away from their duties." he said coolly.

"I presume to say you didn't see any thing?"

At this Mr. Twatting shook his head, " where may I ask is Mrs. Riddle? I suppose I should give her leave."

"Safe. Is all I can say."

Mr. Twatting didn't ask further just nodding, "Well, I'll leave you to it."

"No need," said Moody taken the paper work instead. "I was on my way out."

His next stop was Cherry Tree Lane, a small street in a mini village called Barnaby. The home of Singsby Gamp, who worked in the Crup Ranch. Where he livid in abandon Gypsy wagon near the farm. The ranch had wood cuts painted of Jack Russell terrier with long tails with forks on the end. All rather tasteless in the name of art, but Moody knew a owners love for its pet went a little odd some times.

The Rancher directed Moody to a red barn to find Gamp. He was waving his wand sweeping away dung from the ally's of horse stalls mortified for the little dog like creatures. The Crup's barked and howled at Gamp who curse back at them to be quiet.

"So animals can sense evil." said Moody

Gamp spun around, he looked older then his age. He wore a trim bread, his face weather and pocked. He spotted the Auror badge.

"I ain't done nothing!" he spat turning back to his work.

"Yet,"

On the folder that Dippt gave him read out his acts, reading like a page out of guide to Dark wizards.

Petty thief at his first year. Shake down. Trading stolen Hogwarts goods to out side sources during his third year which had him school bounded from Hogsmeades trips. Dueling. Leaving school grounds.

And it wasn't just at school. Once he left he left a trail. Breaking and entering. Counterfeit. Extortion.

Gamp took to shaking a bucket load of dry dog food in each stall, "If you had some thing you wouldn't be still talking!"

"Know a boy called Tom Riddle?"

"I know a lot of people." said Gamp

"Sure you would know the mud-blood who set your pants on fire."

The bucket which he had been shaken stopped. Glances over his shoulders at Moody with a pitiful expression.

Gamp rolled his eyes, "Mmm, move 8-9. Confessions through shame or angry recollections. "

"That's confessions through stress, your thinking about 9-8." said Moody. "Seems you know a lot about Aurors tactics. Seeing your case file I can see you knew a lot of them from an early age."

Gamp made a gurgly sound and went over to sweep the straw away manually.

"Here's what I think, you wanna get back at the king of Slytherin's. A mud-blood who grew to big for his breeches. Walking around with all your equals who forget what it means to have pride. And here You are shoveling crap while that puck gets the good life. Must make you mad. Anger enough to wanna struck back. Who wouldn't, I would."

Gamps broad chest rose and fell in a low chuckle.

"We were kids back them, doing dumb stuff." he said "I've change, I got myself a steady job, stayed clean."

"For how long?" said Moody

A brown spotted Crup was leaping on his thin hind legs, leaping in a twirl barking at Gamp. The lip of the man quivered with utter hate. His boot foot slam in to the door and the Crup stop his dance but didn't stop his low growling.

There was no way to sneak out a confession from him as Moody had with Theodore. He would have to think up anther way.