Corrupted Souls | remus lupin

a new chapter

Neoma glanced around the desolate platform. It was strange being here without the excited buzz of students and parents, either reuniting or saying their goodbyes.

Dumbledore had sent her a cryptic message a week prior, instructing her to meet him on the Hogwarts Express at dawn. Students weren't bound to arrive for many hours - the two would be alone. 

The bright red engine was silent, preparing itself for a busy day. That train had seen so much, Neoma observed, as she walked up the steps. It carried Dumbledore when he was her age. Tom Riddle. Her father and mother. Her.

Dumbledore sat in the very last compartment, staring out of the window thoughtfully as he snacked on a licorice wand. Neoma hesitantly opened the compartment door, smiling awkwardly at the Hogwarts Headmaster as she sat across from him. 

"Miss Nott." He acknowledged, offering her one of his candies. She accepted it, but didn't start eating it as he stared at him nervously. "How was your holiday?"

"It was good, Sir." She nodded, thinking back to her father's tearful goodbye. She hoped he'd be alive when she returned home - if she returned home.

"I heard you and your father were missed at the Malfoy's New Year's party."

Neoma frowned, but she wasn't surprised. Dumbledore had eyes everywhere. 

"We haven't gone for three years." She revealed, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I just can't stomach it, being around those people. I don't know how Dad does it."

"Your father is likely numb to the deceit and cruelty of Tom Riddle." Dumbledore reflected on Nicodemus Nott's time at Hogwarts sadly. "I should have stepped in. I knew Tom was influencing his friends to make poor decisions, but I never knew the extent of it. Not until it was too late."

"My father made his own choices. Voldemort didn't force his hand - he knew what he was getting into." 

"Yes, yes. I do not doubt it." Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Nott, if you don't mind me asking ... what happened to your mother?"

Neoma was honestly shocked that he hadn't figured it out. Surely he knew someone who had heard whispers of the story.

She had spilled many tears over her mother's death, and she doubted that her pain would ever subside. But Neoma reigned in her emotions as she prepared to recount the story for the first time. 

"My mother fell in love with a muggle man." She whispered. "I didn't know his name. I knew he was a widower, though. And he was poor. I was in my third year when the affair began.

My father was outraged, but he didn't dare tell anybody about it. He could never hurt her, so he just let it continue. Those years were horrible ... I felt abandoned. My father was always angry, and my mother was never home. He left his job as his duties for Voldemort increased, which only pushed my mother further away. I think he just needed the distraction.

Voldemort is not a stupid man. He would come over occasionally with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Lestrange, before the Ministry was fully on his case, and they would notice the distance between my parents. He began to pry, and when he discovered the truth, he was angry. Angry that my mother - a pureblood - would stoop so low. Angry at my father for hiding this from him - angry at my father for not doing anything about it. He was even angry at me for not speaking up, but I don't know if he really meant it. In the back of his mind, I think he knew I was just a child."

Dumbledore listened, fascinated. He was sure that Tom's main source of anger was certainly the perceived betrayal of a close friend, but the man couldn't help but think about Tom's own childhood. Merope Gaunt - though a squib - was a pureblood that fell in love with a muggle man. Their nonconsensual affair signed Tom up for a one-way ticket to a muggle orphanage. Tom was likely projecting his own trauma on the Nott family that night.