Not Worth It
Chapter 4
Same House, New Look
Merope loaded her basket with vegetables and walked to the high street in the village. Since she was meeting Emily in town, she thought she might as well bring in some of her produce and sell it to the grocer. Joe Fletcher, the grocer smiled when he saw her come up to the counter.
"Ah, the constable said you were coming," he said. "So glad. We were running short of some things and nobody in the village can get produce as big as yours. What's your secret?"
Merope paused. "Just some things passed down from my mother."
"Oh yes, I remember," Joe said as he began examining and weighing each vegetable. "The size of the Brussels sprouts…I thought they were cabbages at first!" He shook his head. "She was quite the miracle healer too. I had a horrible fever and she gave me these frozen things that looked like snake eggs. I thought it'd make me worse but cured me right up. I offered her a job here but she wouldn't take it, said it would upset her husband."
"My father and brother are gone for a while," she told him. "Did the constable tell you?"
He nodded. "Yes, I'm glad. We can all breathe easier. Sorry—that's probably not polite to say."
"No you're right," Merope said. "They were hard to live with."
"I'll say!" After he finished weighing the vegetables he went to his register. "Looks like I owe you five pounds."
He gave her the money and she thanked him.
"Do hope I see you again soon," he said. "Maybe you should think of setting a booth out on the high street—but then I might lose some business! Ha!" he laughed at his joke and she smiled wryly. She, sell herself to the public? No one would come buy anything. She was surprised her produce was even selling at Joe's store. He probably lied and said he grew it himself. It didn't matter to Merope. His face was better than her face, even though it was old. The man was a true salesman too. Even if the whole village did know the produce came from the Gaunt's garden, he probably could get them to buy it.
Merope would be meeting Emily at the village pub, The Hanged Man. Emily had said she might need a drink after her trip and it was a decent landmark in the village. Everyone, even people outside the village knew of the Pub. It was a great place for people to stay at when they were passing through to God knows where. When she entered the pub, the two men at the nearest table noticed her. The pub was a little sparse, save for a few elders having breakfast and local drunks. She was grateful it wasn't evening. That was when the pub was full. Merope walked farther in, scanning the area for Emily. She didn't see her so she decided to approach the bar and ask the barkeeper.
People stopped what they were doing and stared at her. She didn't notice that someone stuck their foot out and she tripped over it. A few people laughed.
"Must be hard to see where you're going," hissed the man who had tripped her, "with eyes like that, isn't it?"
Red as a tomato, she pushed herself up and shakily walked to the bar.
"I'm looking for someone," she said. "A young woman with red hair, a little…she's a little—er—large."
"No one like that has been here," answered the barkeeper.
"I'll wait for her," Merope said climbing on a stool.
"I trust you plan on buying first?" the barkeeper inquired.
"That is if she has any money," said a woman derisively.
"I'll have ah-," she glanced at the chalkboard with the list of food and drink. She searched for the cheapest drink.
"Well?" the barkeeper urged.
"A cup of tea," she answered quickly, taking out seventy pence from her pocket.
A few people chuckled at her response. The barkeep sighed, taking the money and getting her the drink, asking if she wanted sugar or cream in it. He placed it down before her and went to check on his customers.
An old man on the end of the bar got up and stood at the stool next to her. "Wait, you're the tramp's daughter, aren't you?"
She stared at him.
"Your father lives in than dung heap of a home outside the village?" the man insisted. "Gaunt, isn't it?"
She nodded slowly.
The man laughed. "I knew it! Your old man used to come here all the time, drinking this place dry. Say Oscar, has he paid his tab yet?"
Oscar shook his head.
"I haven't seen your old man in here for ages. He sent you here to get his whisky?"
Merope shook her head. "Then I imagine you're here to pay the money he owes the pub? Maybe Oscar can get some decent ale around here."
"You don't like the drinks I serve here you can go somewhere else, Dion," Oscar said.
"Just a joke, Oscar," Dion the drunkard slurred. "Will he be coming in soon, your father?"
She shook her head again. Merope couldn't tell if the man was genuinely interested in her father or if he was mocking her.
"Er, are you a friend of his?" she asked timidly.
"Friend?" the man laughed hard, almost spilling his ale. "Hardly. What's your old man doing these days?"
"He's gone," she replied.
"Gone…gone where?" pressed Dion.
"P-prison," she said and Dion howled.
"Prison! Ha, I always knew that old tramp would be sent away." He turned to the rest of the pub. "Listen to this, everyone! Gaunt the Tramp is in prison!"
There were cheers all over the pub. "I'll drink to that!"
"What'd he do?" Dion persisted. "When was he taken off?"
"Few weeks ago…for injuring some people. For six months."
"Good riddance, I'll say," grunted an older woman. "Now if your brother will be taken off too, that'll make my day. I'm worried he'll have his way with my granddaughters."
"My brother is gone too," said Merope told her. "Gone for three years."
"Wait—your mad brother?" Dion said excitedly.
"They were taken away on the same day," Merope explained.
More cheers and applause. They called for more drinks and the bartender couldn't get them out fast enough.
"Such great news," the older woman said. "I don't have to worry about my granddaughters. Say, girl-now what about you? Would you be joining them?"
Merope shook her head.
"No?" she said. "Perhaps you should. Your father and brother gave this village enough trouble."
"I don't mean to cause any trouble," Merope whispered.
"I don't believe you," said the older woman. "Don't think you can bamboozle the young men of this village into marrying you; my grandsons least of all."
There were more taunts and threats. She thought for sure that she would be thrown out of the pub. The bartender wasn't coming to her defense but he wasn't joining in their taunts either. The door opened and Emily Snow walked in.
"Hi Merope!" she greeted cheerfully, hurrying to the bar with a large satchel slung over her shoulder. It swayed as she ran. "Sorry I'm late."
Merope checked the clock on the wall. She was just a few minutes late, but it seemed like an hour.
"Get me a ginger beer," she said to the bartender and she sat on the stool. When she noticed people staring at the pair of them, she scrunched up her face. "What're you staring at? Never had visitors to your village before?" she turned to Merope.
"Would've apparated over here," she said in a soft voice. "But I've never liked apparition much. Besides, it seems harder with all this extra weight I carry. Ha!" she patted her thick sides and then thanked the bartender when he handed her the drink she had ordered. Besides being a visitor and sitting next to the village outcast, Emily blended in just fine in the muggle crowd. She was wearing a black floral dress and black shoes. After taking a swig of her drink, she spoke about the train ride and how much she enjoyed the scenery.
After draining her glass of ginger beer, Emily licked her lips and sighed. "That's so much better. Thank you sir, that was excellent." She paid for her drink. "By the way, where is the ladies' room?"
So Merope didn't have to sit at the bar alone, Emily brought her along. When Merope saw how the toilets were shaped, she stood stunned. After reliving herself, Emily went to the sink to wash her hands. She noticed Merope staring out to space.
"What's the matter, Merope?" she asked.
"I've never seen these before," she said.
"Toilets?" she asked. "You don't have one? Where do you go? Outside?"
"I go in a bucket," Merope admitted, face reddening.
"I can transfigure it into a proper toilet for you, don't worry," Emily said. "Try out the toilet, Merope. You'll find it much easier to sit on."
After Merope tried a real toilet for the first time (and Emily was right—it was more comfortable than a bucket) they left the pub. When they had left the high street and was working the way up to Merope's home, she decided to bring up the dreams she was having. She couldn't wait to tell Emily about them, but she didn't want to discuss it in the pub.
"Then this morning, I dreamed of Tom leaving me," Merope reported somberly. "I don't understand."
"Don't worry," Emily said. "This sometimes happens when Madame Trelawney predicts something for a client, and they don't really believe it. It's more common to those with clairvoyant abilities." She smiled. "You might have an inner eye, yourself."
"So what should I do?" Merope inquired. "I don't want to stop trying to be with Tom."
"These dreams are a way of giving you a second chance," Emily explained. "To help you see what Madame Trelawney sees. They'll stop when you reach the end her vision, and she saw a lot.
"Potions of dreamless sleep don't work," Emily added. Merope frowned, because she was just wondering about that. "Many have tried. All you can do is let the dreams tell you the story you need to know. Some people take Madame Trelaney's advice, and some still follow through with their ambitions, despite the warning and the dreams."
Merope sighed. "How will I know these dreams will be over?"
Emily furrowed her brows. "Madame Trelawney mentioned a child will be the death of your son after he becomes the darkest wizard of all, so I imagine they'll be over when your son dies."
When they reached the Gaunt home, Merope paused. "Er, this is my home. I'm sorry that it is so…"
"It's great!" exclaimed Emily. Though her feet were already sore from the walk up, she hurried to the house, examining the walls and door and roof. "Perfect! So much potential."
"It needs work," Merope told her. "The constable's son will be here to work on the roof but it's still falling apart. I don't know what to do."
"Don't worry," Emily insisted with a wide grin. "I do."
Merope looked confused and Emily laughed. "I like to use transfiguration techniques to redecorate my room. I'm still trying to talk my parents into letting me do the whole house. I can't wait to get started!"
Merope invited Emily in and frowned at the grime and dirt. "I did my best to clean it yesterday…" she admitted.
"You did fine. I can get the rest, don't worry," said Emily as she took her wand out. "Just leave it to me!"
She pointed her wand at the floor and said, "Watch carefully now. Scourgify!"
After cleaning the floor, she did the walls and ceiling. She walked over to the kitchen to improve the stove. "Tergeo!" she exclaimed and the spell siphoned all the grease away. She made the ashes from the inside of the stove disappeared and then used a scouring charm to finish off the cleaning. The stove, though old, now looked new.
She pointed her wand at the kitchen table. "Reparo," she said and the cracks were filled and it became steady again. "Now you try repairing the chairs, Merope."
Merope took her wand from her pocket and pointed the wand at the chair with the least damages. "Reparo."
Not one scratch was repaired.
"Reparo."
She lowered her wand and shook her head. She knew this spell but she always found it difficult to do. Perhaps it was hard for her to fix things because she was the one who needed repairs. She was broken and useless.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Try again," Emily told her.
"Reparo," Merope continued. "Reparo!"
Nothing. The chair remained broken.
"I can't do this!" Merope wailed. "My father is right. I am a squib!"
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Emily said. "I couldn't do the spell at first either. Maybe if you try…"
Merope couldn't hear Emily's advice. All she could hear was her father's rantings. "Useless sack of muck! Disgusting squib! How are you supposed to do your mother proud if you can't even use her wand? What kind of witch are you?"
Merope sat down on the cold, filthy floor and burst into tears. Emily stared in shock as Merope sobbed. Feeling awkward, she conjured a handkerchief and gave it to her. She patted her on the back.
"There, there," she said. "You're doing all right."
Emily waited for Merope to calm down. When she didn't, Emily got angry.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" she exclaimed. "It's not your fault you can't get this. Your father should have sent you to Hogwarts when you were eleven. Don't blame yourself; blame him!"
Merope blinked. "My father?"
"That's right," Emily put her hands on her hips. "And what does he know about being a wizard anyway? He probably isn't good at magic either. I mean look at this place. He could have used magic to keep it decent."
"He wanted me to do it," Merope whispered. "Cook and clean, like my mother did until she died."
"Why did he make you do it? Did he have a job?"
"No."
"Did he do anything?"
"He stayed home most of the time."
"What about your brother? Did he work or anything?"
Merope shook her head. "He liked to sit in trees and hex muggles."
Emily laughed. "And they think you give witches and wizards a bad name. What do they know? They're in Azkaban right now."
Merope nodded dumbly. Emily was right, but still, what if she could never get the spells down?
"Now just try again," said Emily. "Don't think about your lousy father. He's not here to bother you right now. Just forget about him."
Merope sighed. It was easier said than done.
"You were right to pick the chair that needed the least fixing," Emily stated, examining the chair. "See this crack here?" she pointed at the leg and Merope nodded. "Just focus on fixing this part for right now, instead of the whole chair. Just do a little bit at a time."
Merope approached the chair and held out her wand. "Reparo. Reparo. Reparo."
"I can't do it," Merope said, shaking her head. "This will take us all day."
"You were really close," Emily said cheerfully.
Merope sighed. "My mother would be so ashamed of me." She looked at her wand. "Father should have buried the wand with her. It doesn't do me any good."
"That's your mother's wand?" Emily said. "That might explain why you're having trouble getting the spells to work."
"But the wand seemed to work fine for my mother," said Merope.
"Of course, if it was hers!" said Emily. "Don't you know every witch or wizard has their own wand?"
Merope shook her head. There was so much of the wizarding world her family didn't tell her. They couldn't afford their own wands. Everything Merope had ever owned once belonged to someone in her inbred family. It was possible the wand she held wasn't always her mother's.
"We'll continue to practice," said Emily. "Just so sure you get the words and wand movement down, but don't worry if it doesn't come to you. You'll want to get your own wand for yourself as soon as you can. I'm sure you can trade that for a new one at Ollivanders." She nodded at her mother's wand.
Emily waved her wand and repaired the rest of the chairs. She then removed a book about furniture transfiguration from her bag. "I had a feeling we'd need this," she said as she flipped through the book. "Now that we fixed the chairs and table, how about we make them look different? What style do you like?"
She set the table down to allow Merope to look at the pictures of different kitchen tables and chairs, along with instructions on how to change them. She decided on a set that looked polished and the chairs had red cushions. Emily was able to transfigure the old kitchen set exactly like the one in the picture. Merope then went to the filthy armchair by the fireplace. She cringed in distaste.
"This is in such bad shape I don't think transfiguring it will help any," Emily stated. "Smells like it was used as a toilet."
"I think my brother did once," Merope admitted and Emily shuddered.
"Sorry, Merope," she said. "But I think you're better off if we just replace it with a new one. We'll put this outside and burn it."
"Burn it?" Merope said. "But my brother and father…"
"They're not here," Emily reminded her. "Trafero." She pointed her wand at the chair. It disappeared and she moved her wand through the open door. She moved it in a circular motion and said. "Consito." The chair landed next to a tree.
"Let's change the color of the walls," Emily told her. "A good neutral color sounds good." She changed it to beige and Merope nodded in acceptance.
"We might as well clear everything out of the house that can't be transfigured," Emily said. "I'd imagine there's more."
The mattresses, pillows, bedding and clothing in both Marvolo and Morfin's room were in such bad shape Emily didn't think transfiguring would make much of a change. Emily was certain that even if she had transfigured them in something else, Merope would still get bitten by the bedbugs that nested in the mattress. The clothes were so raggedy and filthy that even transfiguring them into drapes wouldn't make a difference. Merope didn't mind. She agreed with Emily. No matter how oftened she laundered their clothes and mended them, it made no difference. She agreed that the room house needed new things, new things just for her, and not anything that was made from her father's filthly leftovers. Emily severed off the branches a tree then cut the trunks down. After assembling a fire, she turned to Merope.
"All right, Merope. Say something you didn't like about your brother and father and put something of theirs in the fire."
"Why?" Merope murmured.
"Trust me," said Emily. "They won't need them. This is to help you forget about them. It will help you get over how they treated you. You can do this. You're going to improve the house."
Merope paused, trying to gather what Emily was trying to tell her. She wanted this junk destroyed. She wanted it out of the house. They couldn't be repaired or changed into something better. She knew that. They were gone. She knew this, but one day they'd be back and they'll be furious when they found out what she had done with their belongings. She just hoped for the day they did come back, she wouldn't be here anymore. She wasn't going to be their slave anymore. She picked up one of her father's shirts. She remembered it. He was wearing it the first time she remembered him losing his temper with her.
"My father didn't yell at me when my mother was around," said Meorpe. "He tried sometimes, but my mother yelled louder. She was scarier when she was angry. When she died, I got her wand and Slytherin's locket."
"That locket you're wearing now?" Emily inquired. "It belonged to Slytherin?"
"So my father says," Merope replied. "I took it off one day so I could clean it and my father was so angry. He was wearing this shirt when he caught me cleaning it."
"Why would he be so angry for you cleaning the locket?" Emily asked her. "Wouldn't he want it polished, if he was so proud of it?"
"He was afraid of me losing it," she said.
"Well now you can clean the locket whenever you want it," said Emily. "Maybe you should even try using that shirt of his to clean it with…though it would probably just make the locket even filthier."
Merope nodded and then threw the shirt on the fire. Emily broke the mattresses and armchair into small pieces so Merope could add them to fire. She spoke of all the cruel names her father called her and the way her brother would tease her. After she was finished with the pile, Merope felt as though a giant weight was lifted off her shoulders.
"All right," said Emily excitedly. "Now that we've got the rubbish out, fix the house up! Locomotor Logs!" A bunch of logs floating in front of her, she ran back into the house, leaving a bewildered Merope behind. She walked back inside and found her transfiguring some of the logs into cabinets and countertops for the kitchen. After she did that, she went to Morfin's room. Emily enchanted the window large enough that she could crawl out of it.
"Since this room already smells like it," she said. "We'll make this the bathroom!"
Merope felt bad for Emily to clean it so she attempted the Scouring charm until it actually worked in one small corner.
"I'm so sorry for this," Merope said. "I have tried cleaning this room before."
"I know," Emily said, turning from the other room with gloves up to her elbows and a doctor's mask over her mouth and nose, muffling her voice. "You were doing this the muggle way, of course it would be hard."
It took a half hour to clean the room. Had they decided to go the muggle way, it may have taken two hours. Merope asked Emily to change the walls to a light blue. Emily stacked the toilet buckets together and transfigured a latrine, charming it to make human waste disappear when the person was done using it. Merope provided a clay pot to be used a sink and a large metal basin to be used a bathtub
"Now you will just need to use the water charm to fill them up, Aguamenti" said Emily, demonstrating the charm. "And use the heating charm. Tepidus. Until you get the heating charm down, you can always put hot coals underneath it. That's how they did it back in the old days. We'll get some tile for the floor, make it look nice. Cupboard for the sink, some extra details. Right, onto the next room."
They entered Marvolo's room. After Emily the cracks and broken boards in the bed frame, she let Merope pick a frame design from her book. After Merope made her choice, Emily smiled.
"Oh, this will be a challenge," she said.
"I can pick another," said Merope quickly.
"Just watch," Emily insisted, rolling up her sleeves. She began saying spells so quickly that Merope couldn't catch the words. Emily changed the bed frame to white. The logs that were used as bedpost sharpened to elegant bed knobs. She then etched a design on the head and footboards.
"What do you think?" said Emily.
Merope touched the frame. It was nothing like it was. "It's very nice. Thank you."
Emily laughed. "I should be thanking you. I get to use my redecorating skills."
They turned to the dresser and Emily repaired it and changed the design to match the bed frame, along with a mirror.
"We've got to take you shopping," said Emily. "New clothes and things in the house."
"I have a little money saved," Merope admitted and Emily looked surprised.
"You don't have to," said Emily.
"I found some money," Merope said. "That my mother had made by helping muggles."
"Your mother used to help muggles?" Emily gasped. "I reckon your father wasn't happy when he found out."
"He never knew," Merope said. "As far as I know."
"Now, what color should we make the walls?" said Emily. "Red? Yellow? Orange?"
The walls changed with each letter she named.
"Yellow," said Merope. "I like yellow."
"Yellow it is then," said Emily, leaving it on yellow. The stones in the wall looked like gold nuggets. "We need more light in here." After cleaning the window, Emily made it larger so more light could come in. Because of all the trees around the house, there wasn't much to come in. "Hmm," Emily mumbled. She walked to the window. "We're going to have to cut a few trees down. We can make a shed out of the wood, maybe even a fence."
Emily turned around and put her hands on her hips, taking in the new room. "Much better. You just need to get a new mattress and bedding, a nightstand, some decorations, make it a bit homey in here. Carpet maybe. I bet the stone floor gets cold in the winter."
"It does," said Merope. She took some time looking around the inside. "I can't believe this is the same house. Thank you, Emily."
"I should be thanking you," Emily said, putting her satchel on the table and taking books out of it. "I don't get an opportunity like this every day. Well, here are some of my old textbooks from Hogwarts and some of my notes. They should prove useful to you."
Emily used some wood from the woodpile to create a bookcase and she put the books on it. "Now, how about that potion lesson?"
Merope nodded and began pulling out her potion ingredients and a large cast iron pot.
"You don't have a cauldron?" Emily inquired.
"I used to," Merope said. "When my mother was still alive, we had a lot of potion making equipment but my father sold it all after she died. My mother made potions all the time. It's how we made money, but I only found out yesterday when I found her book. I thought she was just teaching me how to make potions."
"Maybe you should pick up where she left off," Emily suggested. "After you get more potion ingredients and equipment, I can build a cellar under the house. You can store it all down there. The cold helps keep potions fresh; at least, that's what Professor Slughorn said."
"Sounds like a good idea," Merope agreed. She wanted to get back to potion making. It would make her feel closer to her mother, and when she was having trouble getting a spell to work, it always made her feel better to work on a potion.
Since Emily was familiar with some of the ingredients, she measured them out and handed to Merope to put in the cauldron.
"Nine crushed rose petals," Merope called.
"Nine crushed rose petals," Emily stated as she gave her the item. "Can't wait to give this to Regulus Black. This will teach him to call me mudblood."
"Regulus Black?" said Merope. "Is he related to Hesper Black?"
"Yeah, he's her son," Emily groaned. "Brought up with that pompous pure-blood attitude."
"So you're muggleborn?" Merope said.
"Yes," said Emily. "My father's a professor at Oxford and my mother teaches grade school. I was almost put in Ravenclaw but I wanted to do more than just read books all day."
Merope wondered what her father would say right now if he knew a muggleborn was in the house. He would have quite the fit if he were to find out that a muggleborn wasn't just in the house, but burned most of his belongings and changed the color of his house.
"Nothing wrong with me being muggleborn, is there?" Emily asked.
Merope shook her head. "You're good at spells. I just don't seem to understand, how is it that you're so good at spells if you're muggleborn? Where did your magic come from?"
"Yes, I suppose it can seem strange doesn't it?" Emily agreed, handing her the frozen ash winder eggs. "You have generations of wizards and witches in your family, and as far as I know, I'm the only witch in my family. "I don't know where my magic comes from. I spoke with the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts, but he had no idea about how it works either. He could only guess that it's something the folks that work in the Department of Mysteries try to figure out. They're at the Ministry. Maybe we'll find out someday but until then, I think it's just important we do what we can to be the best witches we can be."
Merope nodded.
"All finished," said Merope.
"Lovely," said Emily, taking a large bottle and a small vial from the shelf. She carefully filled both bottles and put corks on them. She held up the small vial. "I'll put these in my best tarts and send them to Regulus for Christmas. I wish I could see the look on his face when he bites into them."
Merope put her bottle of love potion in a cupboard. "I'll save mine until after Christmas."
"Make sure you do," Emily reminded her. "Don't use it all up yet. Last resort."
Marada, Merope's pet snake slithered into the house. It paused at the door when it saw Emily. Her eyes narrowed.
"It's all right, Marada," Merope said quickly. "Emily is a friend."
"I know you told me you're a decendant of Slytherin," Emily said, "but hearing you speak Parseltongue, just makes it all the more real."
"My brother would trick snakes," said Merope. "He would trap them or nail them to our front door. He did that to Marada's brother. You said at my reading the snake symbols evil and death, but I don't understand why. Marada is my friend. She keeps the house free from mice."
"The snake has dual symbolisms," Emily explained, kneeling down to look at Marada. "True, there are some negative aspects of it, but it also represents rejuvenation and fertility because snakes shed their skin. Even though a venomous snakebite can be fatal, you can also use its poison to create an anti-venom, or antidote. The snake can symbolize good or evil, it's up to interpretation."
Merope smiled as she stroked Marada's skin. "If you're done hunting Marada, go rest. You can use Morfin's old room. There's a tub there now you can rest in."
"Yes, mistress," said Marada.
Marada slithered to Morfin's room. Merope heard the clopping of hooves. "Tom!"
"The Tom?" Emily murmured.
"You have to see him," said Merope. "When you see how handsome he is, you'll know."
Merope took Emily by the hand and pulled her out the door. She ran out and then skidded to a halt. Her heart sank. She didn't see the tall and handsome dark haired squire's son riding on a gorgeous chestnut. Instead she saw a man driving a wagon with a mule. He jumped down from the wagon. His hair was the color of sand and his eyes were large and as blue as the ocean. He did not have the handsome features of Tom Riddle and he was at least two heads shorter than him. Merope stood still in disappointment as Kevin Hale, the constable's son, walked up with seven strung up fish in one hand, and a bottle of ice tea in the other.
"Good afternoon," he said. "My father told me you needed help fixing your roof. I'm Kevin Hale."
To Be Continued