Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Though that might be true, blaming everything on such a poor girl was evidently unfair.

Her father had kept her locked up at home, not allowing her to interact with outsiders, not even to go to Hogwarts.

Her only fate was to be abused, and then wait to marry her own brother, continuing this ancient, conservative, sinful pure-blood family.

No matter who it was, growing up in such an environment would twist the soul.

If it were Evan, he might have left this family long ago.

It was a pity that she didn’t even have the ability to run away from home.

Only after her father and brother were imprisoned in Azkaban did she usher in a life of her own.

Unfortunately, it was just an even scarier nightmare and tragedy.

“My daughter, Merope,” said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

“Good morning,” said Ogden.

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,” said Ogden, withdrawing his gaze. “To get straight to the point, 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 her, watching his daughter pick up the pot with dissatisfaction. “That’s it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what’s your wand for, you useless sack of muck?”

“Mr. Gaunt, please don’t speak like that!” said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, and, following her father’s order, 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.

Seeing this scene, Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter.

Gaunt screamed, “Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it! Right now!”

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Ogden 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 Ogden, 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 Ogden, 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,” Ogden began again, “as I’ve said: the reason for my visit…”

“I heard you the first time!” snapped Gaunt, assuming an air of entitlement. “And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him ̶ what about it then? What do you want to do to him?”

“Morfin has broken Wizarding law,” said Ogden sternly.

“’Morfin has broken Wizarding law.’” Gaunt imitated Ogden’s voice, making it pompous and singsong.

Morfin cackled again, making an unpleasant sound.

“In this decadent era, he did the right thing and taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that’s illegal now, is it?”

“Yes,” said Ogden. “I’m afraid it is. This is a serious breach.”

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 of Magic for a hearing…”

“Summons! Summons! Summons?! Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?” Gaunt asked loudly.

“I’m Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad,” said Ogden.

“And you think we’re scum, do you?” Gaunt screamed, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. “Scum who’ll come running when the Ministry tells them to? Do you think the Ministry has that much power? Do you know who you’re talking to, you filthy boy, do you?”

“I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

“That’s right!” roared Gaunt. “You’re talking to me, but you obviously don’t know who I am yet!”

He raised his hand and showed Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger.

Evan’s eyes also focused on the ring, which was the goal of their trip.

This ring was priceless, not to mention that the black gemstone on it was the legendary Resurrection Stone.

Mr. Gaunt could change their current plight simply by selling this ring.

Of course, he wouldn’t do that.

This was probably the only remaining proof of their identity as a family, representing the glory of the past.

Obviously, Gaunt thought so too, as he proudly waved the ring in front of Ogden.

“Look carefully, Evan!” Dumbledore reminded. “This is what we will set out to find later.”

“Yes!” Evan nodded.

“See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it’s been in our family, that’s how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I’ve been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?”

Yes, indeed, the Peverells … an ancient wizarding family only appearing in legends.

The three most famous brothers in their family made a deal with Death and left behind the Three Deathly Hallows that could conquer death.

“I’ve really no idea,” said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, “and it’s quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed …”

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter, and his hand flew to her throat.

He seemed as if he was going to throttle her, then he dragged her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

“See this?” he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

“I see it, I see it!” said Ogden hastily.

“Slytherin’s!” yelled Gaunt at the top of his voice. “Salazar Slytherin’s! Stupid boy, you don’t even know who he is, do you? Tell you, we’re his last living descendants, the only ones, what do you say to that, eh?”

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