Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Because of Auntie Muriel’s words, Doge looked to be on the verge of tears, while Auntie Muriel who seemed to be enjoying herself hugely, snapped her fingers for more champagne.

Harry stared blankly ahead, then turned his head toward Evan, as if silently asking whether there was another explanation.

But before Evan could respond, Harry’s gaze shifted back to Auntie Muriel.

In his mind, as Muriel had said, Evan couldn’t possibly know about such things.

These were all secrets about Dumbledore’s past, likely unknown to anyone still alive.

The Dumbledores had treated that girl the same way the Dursleys had treated Harry, shutting him up, locking him away, keeping him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic?

If that were true, it was horrifying.

And had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts, to prove himself brilliant and talented?

Seeing Harry turn away in disappointment, Evan sighed, unsure how to explain. The situation was a bit fraught. Of course, what Auntie Muriel had said wasn’t the truth. While he didn’t know everything, he was certain that Dumbledore’s mother had acted to protect Ariana.

Auntie Muriel’s speculations were completely groundless, and her starting point was flawed.

Ariana wasn’t a Squib; she was an Obscurial, a witch who had been abused by Muggles until she lost the ability to control her magic, becoming something dangerous.

If Dumbledore’s mother had sent her to St. Mungo’s, she would have been locked away there for life.

Dumbledore loved his sister, and he had every reason to hate and seek revenge against Muggles, but he hadn’t become such a horrible person.

And now, Muriel’s ill-informed, malicious speculations were infuriating. Her malicious attempts to defame Dumbledore for her own selfish ends were truly repulsive. Although Auntie Muriel had always been unpleasant, her current display of malice was truly disgusting. Evan simply didn’t want to hear any more.

If Muriel wasn’t Ron’s great-aunt, if she weren’t over a hundred years old, Evan would have cursed her.

That was it; Auntie Muriel was a thoroughly detestable old woman.

But he had to admit, what she said probably represented the sentiments of a large portion of witches and wizards.

People feared and hated Voldemort, but even for the greatest of white wizards, they never truly felt the reverence they displayed outwardly.

When they needed him, he was a hero, a savior onto whom they pinned all their hopes and dreams.

But when the savior stumbled, people were eager to kick him while he was down.

Perhaps that was human nature in all its complexity.

“Let’s go!” said Evan, turning his head to look at Harry. “We don’t have time to waste here, things are not like this at all. If you want to understand Dumbledore or know more, you can ask me. It may not be entirely proper for me to explain, and I may not have the whole truth, but it’s better than staying here listening to this drivel.”

“Well, poor guy, it seems that Dumbledore has brainwashed you very successfully, just like poor Elphias, who is crazy about Dumbledore. I don’t blame you, since so many people are the same,” Auntie Muriel cackled again when she heard what Evan said. “You must think I’m talking nonsense, but I have other evidence, which is evidence that cannot be refuted. If I remember correctly, Elphias, you were at Ariana’s funeral, were you not?

“Yes I was,” said Doge, through trembling lips. He seemed to be uneasy and wanted to deny it, but finally admitted it. “And a more desperately sad occasion I cannot remember. Albus was heartbroken —”

“His heart wasn’t the only thing. Didn’t Aberforth break Albus’s nose halfway through the service?” said Auntie Muriel triumphantly. She noticed that Harry, who was about to leave with Evan, Hermione and Elaine, stopped again and turned to look at her.

The woman was relentless; perhaps it was best to just let her spill it all in one go. After all, Harry found such things irresistible.

Evan turned his head and saw that the expression on Doge’s face had changed drastically.

If he had looked horrified before this, it was nothing to how he looked now. Muriel might have stabbed him.

Auntie Muriel cackled loudly and took another swig of champagne, which dribbled down her chin.

“You want to ask me how I know, don’t you? You thought you alone kept that secret? No, no, poor Elphias, you see, my mother was friendly with old Bathilda Bagshot,” said Auntie Muriel happily. “Bathilda described the whole thing to Mother while I was listening at the door. A coffin-side brawl! The way Bathilda told it, Aberforth shouted that it was all Albus’s fault that Ariana was dead and then punched him in the face. According to Bathilda, Albus did not even defend himself, and that’s odd enough in itself, Albus could have destroyed Aberforth in a duel with both hands tied behind his back.”

Muriel swigged yet more champagne. The recitation of these old scandals seemed to elate her as much as they horrified Doge.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” Muriel said, hiccuping slightly as she lowered her goblet. “I think Bathilda has spilled the beans to Rita Skeeter. All those hints in Skeeter’s interview about an important source close to the Dumbledores — goodness knows she was there all through the Ariana business, and it would fit!”

“Bathilda Bagshot?” Harry said. “The author of A History of Magic?”

The name was printed on the front of one of Harry’s textbooks, but what really made him remember Bathilda Bagshot was that Evan had once corresponded with her.

Back in the early days of Hogwarts Magic, Evan had discussed with her an article about Hogwarts’ history published in the paper. That article had sparked heated debate in the Wizarding world, and that was when Harry learned her name — a renowned magical historian.

“Yes, that’s her. Quite gaga these days, I’ve heard,” said Auntie Muriel cheerfully, completely ignoring the fact that Doge across from her sounded like he was about to drown from sheer shortness of breath. “But her words still carry weight. There are ways of bringing back memories, and I’m sure Rita Skeeter knows them all. But even if Bathilda’s completely cuckoo, I’m sure she’d still have old photographs, maybe even letters. She knew the Dumbledores for years. … Well worth a trip to Godric’s Hollow, I’d have thought. She’s been there forever! The Dumbledores moved there after Percival was imprisoned, and she was their neighbor.”

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