Coup de Foudre [Fred Weasley] [6]

⚡️ Chapter 18 ⚡️

"You're not welcome,"

It was Parseltongue, and it was coming from the man who had jumped down from the tree – and that man, standing before them, had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several of his teeth were missing.

His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Vega could not blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Er – good morning," Ogden greeted. "I'm from the Ministry of Magic –"

"You're not welcome," repeated the man in Parseltongue.

"Er – I'm sorry – I don't understand you," Ogden said nervously, and Vega caught sight of the man now brandishing a wand in one hand, and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes, of course," Harry said, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden –?" He caught Vega's rapt attention on the man. "He's speaking Parseltongue?"

"Very good," Dumbledore said, nodding and smiling.

The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other just as Ogden began, "Now, look –" but too late: There was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!"

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey.

The elderly man came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground. Vega stared at the pair of strange men in bewilderment, unable to see why anyone would come visit such individuals.

"Ministry, is it?" questioned the older man, looking down at Ogden, and not at all looking keen on helping the visitor back onto his feet.

"Correct!" Ogden responded angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"S'right," Gaunt replied. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes, he did!" Ogden snapped back.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" Gaunt told him aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself,"

"Defend himself against what, man?" Ogden said, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies, intruders," Gaunt responded. "Muggles and filth,"

Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Vega caught movement and saw that Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin.

"Get in the house," Gaunt told him, speaking in Parseltongue, which appeared to be their everyday language given how perfectly it flowed out. "Don't argue,"

Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look, he changed his mind, lumbering away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," Ogden said, as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"

"Ar, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently, but then his voice suddenly got aggressive as he held Ogden under scrunity, "Are you pure-blood?"