Chapter 56

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Published March 9, 2016

I bent forward, took a breath, and plunged my face into the silvery substance. I felt my feet leave the office floor; I was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, I was blinking in the dazzling sunlight. Before my eyes had adjusted, Harry and Dumbledore landed beside me.

We were standing in a country lane bordered by a high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of us stood a short, plump man wearing thick glasses that reduced his eyes to mole-like specks. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand side of the road. This was Ogden; he was the only person in sight and was wearing the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles. Seriously, he was wearing a frock coat and spats over a striped one-pieced bathing costume. Before I had time to register his bizarre appearance, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

We followed. As we passed the wooden sign, I looked at the two arms. The one pointing the way we had come read: Great Hangleton, 5 Miles. The arm pointing after Ogden said Little Hangleton, 1 mile. I gulped, as if to try to swallow a big dose of reality.

We walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply downhill so we had a view of the whole valley laid out in front of us. I could see the village Little Hangleton, nestled between two steep hills, it's church and the graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley on the opposite hill side was a handsome manor house surrounded by wide expansive velvety green lawn.

We quicken our pace due to the steepness of the hill. The lane curved right and when we rounded the corner, it was to see Ogden;s frock coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.

Dumbledore, Harry and I followed him onto a narrow dirt track lined with higher, wider headgrows than the ones we left behind. The track was rocky and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one. It seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the copse, and Dumbledore, Harry and I came to a halt behind Ogden, who had stopped and drawn his wand.

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows, and it was a few seconds before my eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst the tangle or trunks. It seemed a strange location for a house. It looked like no one actually lived there; it's walls were covered with moss and many roof tiles had fallen off that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the grim covered windows. Suddenly, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter, and a thin trickle of steam or smoke came from it, like someone was cooking.

Ogden moved forward quietly and cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake.

Then, there was a rustle and a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet in front of Ogden, who leapt backward so fast he stumbled on the the tails of his frock coat.

"You're not welcome."

The man standing before us had thick hair so mated with dirt you couldn't even tell the original color, it could be purple for all we know. He had several missing teeth. His eyes were small and dark and stared in different directions. He looked so comical, I nearly laughed. Harry seemed to think he looked frightening. I couldn't blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Er-- good morning. I am from the Ministry of Magic---"

"You're not welcome."

"Er-- I'm sorry-- I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously.

So now I knew. I had the ability to understand Parseltongue. It was then I noticed the stranger was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short, bloody knife in the other.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed. "Why ca 't Ogden--?"

Harry's eyes then traveled to the door were a dead snake was hammered onto the wood.

"He's speaking Parseltongue?"

"Very good," said Dumbledore, nodding smiling. I tried to send Dumbledore a look saying I understood it too, but he went back to the scene in front of us.

The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now look--" Ogden began, but too late: there was a bang and Ogden was on the ground and clutching his nose which spewed nasty yellowish goo that squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly portioned. His shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older man, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"S'right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes he did!" snapped Ogden.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself from what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."

Ogden pointed his wand at his own noise, which puss still ran from, and stopped the flow at once. Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin.

"Get in the house. Don't argue."

I wasn't really paying to much attention to the scene unfolding in front of me. How come I was able to understand the Parseltongue? The reason Harry understood it was because of the Horcrux inside of him, I shouldn't be able to understand. Perhaps it was because I read the books, or some weird time travel affect from growing up in the future. I was stressing out too much of this new development that my mind started to hurt. I tried to focus on what was in front of me.

...

SORRY THiS PART SUCKS IT"S JUST WHO I AM

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