Coup de Foudre [Fred Weasley] [6]

⚡️ Chapter 18 ⚡️

"That's neither here nor there," Ogden said coldly, and it was almost impressive coming from him – but Gaunt felt very differently about it.

Gaunt squinted into Ogden's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village,"

"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them," Ogden said, and Vega bit her lower lip. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?" Gaunt asked.

"Yes, Mr. Gaunt," Ogden replied. "I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl –"

"I've no use for owls," Gaunt said. "I don't open letters,"

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," Ogden said tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning –"

"All right, all right, all right!" Gaunt bellowed, clearly unhappy with the situation. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

Vega, Harry and Dumbledore followed Ogden and Gaunt inside – the house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

Hissy, hissy, little snakey,

Slither on the floor,

You be good to Morfin

Or he'll nail you to the door.

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and it was then that Vega came to the realisation that there was somebody else in the room – it was a girl whose ragged grey dress was the exact colour the dirty stone wall behind her.

This girl was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull with no care and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face as she watched.

Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions. She looked a little cleaner than the two men, but Vega thought she had never seen a more defeated-looking person. It was almost hard to believe that the girl was even alive.

"M'daughter, Merope," Gaunt said grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

"Good morning," Ogden said.

But Merope did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

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

There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at his daughter and Vega stared at him shock. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"Mr. Gaunt, please!" Ogden said in a shocked voice.

Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily 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.