The Enemy of my Enemy

The Memory, Part I

Or he'll nail you to the door."

Teddie turned to the sound of scuffling in the far corner of the room. Her eyes found a young girl wearing a ragged gray dress, she was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans. Her hair was long and dull, and she was pale, and while she looked cleaner than Morfin and Marvolo, Teddie could tell she was completely and utterly defeated.

"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt.

"Good morning," said Odgen.

Merope didn't reply and with a frightened look at her father, turned her back on the room.

"Well, Mr. Gaunt, to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle last night."

Merope dropped one of the pots and it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt roared. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck!"

"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Odgen in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchy scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in two.

Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter.

Gaunt screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Odgen had lifted his own and said firmly, "Reparo." The pot mended itself instantly.

Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Odgen, but seemed to think better of it: instead, he jeered at his daughter, "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs. . . "

Without looking at anybody or thanking Odgen, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.

"Mr. Gaunt," Odgen began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit -"

"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so, what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him-what about it, then?"

"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Odgen sternly.

"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Odgen's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"

"Yes," said Odgen. "I'm afraid it is."

He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.

"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing -"

"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"

"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Odgen.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Odgen now, with a dirty, yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"