The Enemy of my Enemy

The Memory, Part I

Thankfully, at least to Teddie, when Bob Odgen reached the end of the street he turned swiftly to the left and ducked down an obscure side lane which run adjacent to the village.

Teddie let out a small sigh of relief as she felt her muscles relax. She was not going to Little Hangleton. Not again.

The narrow dirt track they were now on was bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows. The path was crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened at the corpse, and small group came to a halt.

Odgen removed his wand.

"Look," said Teddie, pointing at building that had been concealed amongst a tangle of trees. It was a strange location to build a house, and Teddie couldn't help but wonder if the house had been there before the grove had become overgrown? Maybe the grove belonged to the property?

As they grew closer, Teddie took in the house more clearly. It had moss covering every inch of its walls and so many tiles had fallen from the roof that the wooden beams beneath were visible. The house was more run down than hers back home in Spinner's End, her family didn't have much money to spend on redecorating, but at least their house was weatherproof and homely. This place was clearly a dump.

"Do you think anyone lives -" Harry broke off as a billow of black smoke filted out through an open window. A clear sign that someone was inside the building, and probably, by the looks of it, doing an unbelievably bad attempt at cooking.

Odgen 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, followed by a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree. He landed directly in front of Odgen, who leapt backward so fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.

"You're not welcome."

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several teeth were missing, and his eyes were small and dark, and seemed to stare in opposite directions. On anyone else, Teddie noted, it would've probably been comical, but on this man, it was downright terrifying.

"Er — good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic -"

"You're not welcome."

"Er — I'm sorry... I don't understand you," said Odgen nervously.

Harry frowned and turned to Teddie; she was staring at the man with wide eyes. "You understand him, right?" he asked.

"He's speaking Parseltongue," Teddie said.

"He is?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Correct, Teddie," said Dumbledore.

Harry looked from Odgen, to Dumbledore, and then back at Teddie. "How did you know?" he asked.

"I'd recognise that confused stare anymore," said Teddie. "You had it the first time you discovered you could talk to snakes, and my friends, they've got over it now, used to have it when they caught me talking to Merlin and Morgana."

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

Instinctively, Teddie tightened the muscles in her legs until the burned, her whole body rocking forward and then backward as she prepared to launch forward and intercept.

"Now, look -" Odgen began, but too late: there was a bang, and then Odgen was on the floor, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.