coarse language from Krait in this one.
Chapter 7: Plunging into the Pensieve
Their feet left the office floor as they leaned over the pensieve, whirling and falling through blackness as they plunged into the memory of a man Dumbledore said was called Bob Ogden. Then they were in bright sunlight.
The repellent figure that dropped from a tree hissed menacingly at the bizarrely dressed Ogden, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to look like a muggle. Ogden had sought out a decrepit shack in a dark spinney of trees; the house was as unwelcoming as the words of the ragged man from the tree.
ssssYou're not welcome ssss he said. Ogden blinked confused, obviously not understanding; he announced himself as being from the ministry of magic. The ragged man repeated himself, brandishing a wand in one hand and a stained knife in the other.
"Parseltongue" said Krait as Harry frowned.
"Oh…yeah. I thought the Ogden chap was just being dim" whispered Harry.
"They can't see or hear us" said Krait. "We're not really here." She thought a moment. "That means, if there's significant stuff in Parseltongue, Professor Dumbledore is Parselmouth too."
Dumbledore just smiled.
The encounter was unpleasant, not to say sordid. Marvolo Gaunt came out of the shack, stopping his son from attacking Ogden; though he was aggressive enough himself. The group nodded with admiration for Ogden when he replied coldly that his blood status was immaterial when Gaunt asked aggressively; and reluctantly Ogden was allowed inside. The dirty ragged girl with lank hair and bad skin had wall eyes like her brother. Krait's eyes filled with tears of pity.
"That's my grandmother, isn't it – Merope?" she asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, child, it is" he said softly. "Easy to see why she wanted to escape, isn't it?"
As Gaunt was now screaming at her for having dropped a pot nervously and picking it up by hand instead of using her wand it most definitely was. Ogden mended it for her while her father was taunting her that she was useless. Ogden attempted to come to the point of his visit, that Morfin had hexed a muggle. Marvolo was not impressed; he thrust forward his hand with the ring the trio recognised, claiming it to be carved with the Peverell arms; and grabbed the locket round Merope's neck shouting that it was Salazar Slytherin's, caring little that he was half throttling the girl. Krait gasped.
"But I've seen that in the flesh!" she said.
"Where?" Dumbledore asked swiftly.
"At Grimmauld Place….it was amongst the junk of dark magics….I think Sirius buried them all somewhere….."
"I find that hard to accept" said Dumbledore. "I have a theory about where Tom Riddle may have hidden it…..but give it into the charge of a boy as young as Regulus Black who defected so soon? I somehow doubt it…"
"I know what I saw" said Krait.
"I think you may be mistaken, my dear" said Dumbledore "Though it will do no harm to find the locket you're thinking of, just in case…."
The Gaunts were now discussing the muggle Tom Riddle who had passed by, Morfin having told his father that his sister desired him. Ogden was forgotten as they hissed together in Parseltongue, Merope terrified. Ogden intervened to save her from her father; but was chased, running for his life, from the house, colliding with the horse the muggle was riding with a muggle girl riding beside him. The young man was very handsome.
"You have some bone structure from him" said Severus critically to Krait. "it enhances the delicacy of the Malfoy…"
They withdrew from the pensieve.
"What happened? He didn't kill Merope did he?" asked Harry.
"No, Ogden returned with reinforcements after Apparating back to the Ministry. Both father and son were sentenced by the wizgamot, Marvolo having injured several ministry employees got six months in Azkaban, Morfin with a record of hurting muggles got three years."
"How…how could a pathetic looking girl like Merope attract the handsome muggle she wanted?" asked Harry.
"She was a witch even though her father called her squib….it was fear of him as much as anything else that made her inept" said Dumbledore.
"Like Neville" said Harry.
"Indeed…." Dumbledore shot an understanding look at Severus who smiled ruefully. "Marvolo returned home expecting to find a dutiful daughter and a hot meal and found only an inch of dust and a note explaining what she had done. He never mentioned her name again; and either the shock or an inability to feed himself led to his early death. He didn't live to see Morfin released. Within a few months of the runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared with a tale of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in' – in other words, under an enchantment, though he would not dare say so for fear of being thought insane. Merope probably, poor girl, deluded herself into thinking her husband had learned to love her for her own sake….and stopped giving him the love potion. Our next encounter with her is the memory of one who bought that locket for a paltry sum when she needed to avoid starvation for her unborn son's sake…shall we have a cup of tea before we follow that one?"
-/-
After a cup of tea the group followed the story of Caractacus Burke, delighted to have pulled a fast one on a young witch so desperate for money she would sell a priceless heirloom for ten galleons.
"I hope he's still alive" said Krait. "Cos when I catch up with him he'll wish he wasn't…"
"Krait!" said Harry, shocked.
"That's my GRAN he diddled!" shouted Krait. "My poor little gran who never had a fair deal in her short unhappy life….he contributed to the making of Volde-fucking-mort by adding to the load of despair of Merope….I want WORDS with him!"
"Quite understandable, my dear, but not necessarily practical" said Dumbledore, patting her hand comfortingly. Krait shot him a Look.
"It's not sensible to compromise the whole plan" said Severus coolly. "If your father hears that you've turned Burke inside out – and Merlin knows he deserves it – he'll wonder why. If he finds out you've been researching your family history he may wonder how you came by that information."
Krait forced her fingers out of the claws. She was crying.
"I feel so helpless…watching her suffer, hearing more about her sufferings…." She said. Severus drew her into his arms and stroked her pale hair.
"It's easy to say that there is nothing you can do for the past….and not easy to deal with" he said. "Dearest love, the best thing to do is to see that when we have killed Fishface we help establish a system of government that protects the poor, helps other people in Merope's situation…."
She nodded.
"You are right, love….I'm sorry. But when Fishface is dead, I'm still going to bounce Mr Burke off a few walls."
"What I don't understand" said Harry "Was why she should have died – I mean, she was a witch!"
"Unrequited love can sap powers…the despair attendant to it takes away the will, and will is important in spell casting" said Dumbledore "But I think it more likely that she just gave up. As we shall see later, she would not even raise her wand to save her own life."
"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
"You are surely not feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"
"No!" said Harry quickly. "But she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother…."
"Or my muggle mother" said Krait.
"Lily had a choice too" said Dumbledore gently. "Aurora Day did not, that is true…and Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her. But do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was weakened by long suffering as Krait has said….she never had your mother's courage. Now let us adjourn to rest a while."
Sampling memories in the Pensieve was an exhausting business and they were all glad of a break from it. Krait wanted to spend time with her daughter and half brother and the older girls; and Harry came along cheerfully.
-/-
The next memory was Dumbledore's own, and he was found striding down a London street with long auburn hair and beard in a flamboyant plum coloured suit that drew the gaze of passers by.
"Nice suit sir" said Harry. Dumbledore chuckled.
The visit was to an orphanage, grim in aspect, matroned by a woman who looked as though she tippled, though probably more from anxiety than any other reason, for she did not seem unkind. The children looked well cared for, if boringly clad in grey uniform, but not cowed as Krait was used to.
"Grim place" whispered Harry.
"Believe me, it's relatively jolly" growled Krait.
The matron was worried about chicken pox, and had forgotten Dumbledore had an appointment; but was soon telling him – over a glass of gin – that Tom Riddle was born there of a mother scarce more than a child herself
"Runs in the family" Harry murmured to Krait, who poked him hard.
Tom was not, it seemed a popular boy; though nobody had caught him bullying the children were afraid of him; and two children had gone with him, on the summer outing to the seaside, into a cave; and had never been the same again; though they'd never say anything but that they'd gone exploring. When Dumbledore met Tom he found a truculent boy, handsome like his father, as Merope had confided to Mrs Cole the matron she hoped for, and expecting someone trying to have him shut up. He tried a form of magical coercion in his voice 'Tell the truth!' he said. He was nonplussed that he got nowhere, and went on the defensive, still convinced that Dumbledore was from an insane asylum. When Dumbledore finally got a word in to explain that Hogwarts was a school of magic Tom was alive with interest.
"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper
"That's right" said the young Dumbledore
"It's magic that I can do?"
Dumbledore questioned him as to what he could do; and found that as well as moving things by looking at them his main fields of expertise seemed to be controlling animals and making people hurt.
"I knew I was different" he whispered. "I knew I was special. Always I knew there was something."
Young Dumbledore was watching him intently, no longer smiling.
"Mmph" said Krait "Little creep….Special. That's his whole shit…little people need to feel special, need to force their will on others. Look, he's asking Albus to prove it using his control voice…"
"You asked me to prove it" said Severus.
"Sure…I was trying to piss you off"
"You succeeded" he said dryly.
Dumbledore had responded to the attempt to force him by asking if that was an acceptance of the place, then he would expect to be called 'Professor' or 'sir'; and Tom promptly became polite and respectful, only the hardening of his expression to give away the implicit lie of his manner. Dumbledore drew out his wand, pointed it at the wardrobe and it burst into flames. Harry, who had expected him to refuse, gasped. But there was depth to the spell; while Riddle was contemplating the wand the wardrobe rattled. Dumbledore demanded that he open the door and take out the box that was causing the noise, asking if there was anything in the box the boy ought not to have. Tom admitted it in an expressionless voice.
The box contained an eclectic collection of small objects, a yo-yo, a silver thimble, a mouthorgan among others; the sort of things Krait knew would be prized possessions of orphans with but little in the world. The keeping of them was a means of inflicting a small, mean misery. Dumbledore told the boy he expected the objects to be returned to their owners with apologies; and pointed out that he would know. He explained that thieving was not tolerated at Hogwarts. Tom took it calmly enough, agreeing, but unabashed. He was unmoved by the stern homily about inappropriate use of magic and the fact that the ministry of magic would not tolerate the same. He merely pointed out that he had no money; and when given it demanded directions to where he could be outfitted, saying that he preferred to go alone. There was an adverse reaction to the knowledge that the barman in the Leaky Cauldron was also called Tom – he muttered that he disliked the name because there were so many Toms. He wanted to know if his father was a wizard and was left with instructions and a ticket for the Hogwarts Express, after an almost casual mention of being able to talk to snakes.
They emerged.
"A petty sneak thief….my precious father!" Krait almost spat. "Petty meanness….obsessed with being 'special' to the point of hating to share his name with anyone….oh my, it just shows up so clearly what an inadequate little twerp he is!"
"But a powerful inadequate, er, little twerp" said Dumbledore "And capable of great charm…his greatest mistake was to have revealed his true self to me before attempting to exert it."
"You'd have seen through it anyway" said Krait. "You're nobody's fool, sir"
Dumbledore laughed.
"Well, I believe you are probably right" he said. "Note also he was already a loner; and had a high degree of control over his powers, not using the random experiments common of young wizards, or using his powers" he nodded to Krait "In moments of fear. He was already using it to frighten; there was the strangled rabbit, the two children in the cave…he could make people hurt if he wanted to…."
"And he was a Parselmouth and knew it" said Harry.
"Yes; a rare ability – normally, anyway – and one that is usually connected with the Dark Arts, though we know there are Parselmouths amongst the great and the good too….are all your bloodgroup now Parselmouths?"
ssssWe be of one blood, ye and I ssss three voices hissed.
"Ah, Kipling…." Said Dumbledore. "In truth his ability to speak to snakes did not perturb me as much as his instincts for cruelty, secrecy and domination. Also his contempt for anything that tied him to other people – his name for example. He was quick to shed it for that pseudonym we all know and hate"
"Despise" said Krait. "To hate it gives it too much importance. He wants importance; he wants to be hated. I don't feel like obliging."
"Very good, Krait" said Dumbledore. "Let us not give him any satisfaction…I make a point of calling him Tom whenever I see him. He was, you note, already self sufficient and friendless….because he never wanted a friend. He was always a secretive loner. Many Death Eaters boast they are in his confidence; they are deluding themselves. The nearest to affection he has ever shown is to Nagini his snake. I do not even think he reposes any trust or affection in his own daughter."
Krait laughed.
"Not a jot" she agreed. "It pleases him to let me think I am close to him. I think he toys with the idea of trusting me more because he thinks he understands the brand of ambition I portray; but it is because it is not threatening to him yet I share many powers with him; not because I am his daughter. He finds that useful because it amuses him to make the others try to get close to him by creeping to me, and he likes to see me spurn them. He likes to manipulate any way he can and I am a tool."
"You will not then be drawn into the dangerous trap of feeling sorry for him and empathising with him?"
"He did not even remember my mother" said Krait. "He despises the muggle part of his and my heritage. He has cast the cruciatus curse on my Severus. I would empathise with him why?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"His words can be seductive….his promises have caught many a wizard more experienced than you."
"Ask me how much I love him after I cut off his head and piss down his neck" said Krait. "Then you can set me the lines for my language."
Dumbledore laughed outright.
"I don't think your soul is in any danger, my dear….only your vocabulary. But time flies away with us….it is dark. Just remember one more thing – that box of stolen articles taken from his victims; souvenirs of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Let us bear in mind his magpie-like tendency in light of horcruces."
"Are any of them likely to be…." Asked Harry.
"The mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ….." said Dumbledore cryptically.
"Early games….not enough significance" Krait translated. "Ah!"
"What?" asked Severus sharply.
"Trying to kill Harry killed him….but Wormtail was the secret keeper…something from Godric's Hollow would make a perfect horcrux…." Said Krait.
"And one to follow up" said Dumbledore "But now, I think we should all get our rest, Hmm?"
"Or at least go to bed" said Krait with a sideways glance at Severus.
He stalked out quickly to hide his blushes!
Dumbledore has his blind spots….
Note that Tom Riddle could project a charming front, but has no connection to anyone and no emotion save anger when things do not go his way, that only he is valid in the scheme of things, others irrelevant though he can make people follow him; it's the classic portrait of a clinical psychopath.