Marvolo released his grip on Merope.
She collapsed like a discarded rag doll, stumbling back into her corner by the window and curling up in the shadows.
Her head drooped, and she gasped for breath. Her dry, lank hair hung before her face like a curtain.
Seeing that she was not seriously hurt, Ogden resumed his fierce argument with Marvolo. His tone was firm and unyielding, he was determined that Morfin should face justice.
"Morfin is to appear before the Wizengamot on September fourteenth to answer the charge of performing magic in front of a Muggle, causing that Muggle harm and suffering-"
Before he could finish, a faint jingling of bells, the clatter of hooves, and cheerful laughter drifted in through the window, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Merope suddenly lifted her head. Her face went deathly pale, her eyes wide with terror and confusion, filled with emotions too tangled to name.
"Oh, what an eyesore that thing is!" came a melodious female voice from the open window, as clear as if the speaker were standing right beside them. "Tom, can't your father have that filthy shack torn down?"
"That doesn't belong to us," a young man's patient voice replied. "All the land on the other side of the valley is ours, but that little hovel belongs to an old tramp named Gaunt and his children..."
The girl's bright laughter floated into the house once more, the jingling bells and clopping hooves growing louder.
"Tom," the girl's curious voice sounded again, this time closer, it seemed they had drawn near the cottage, "am I seeing things, or is there a dead snake nailed to that door?"
"Yes, you're seeing it right," the young man answered, sounding amused. "That'd be the work of old Gaunt's son. I told you before, the lad's not quite right in the head. Never mind it, dear Cecilia."
Intrigued, Snape moved to the grimy door and, wrinkling his nose, stepped straight through it and out into the sunlight.
On the path, two fine horses were turning about to head back to the main road.
On a sleek chestnut horse sat a handsome black-haired young man, his features, his sharp eyes and angular face, were startlingly like those of the young Tom Riddle. Beside him, on a gray mare, rode a beautiful young woman.
The two of them rode side by side, laughing and chatting as they went.
The jingling of the bridle bells and the rhythm of the hooves grew fainter and fainter as they rode away.
Just as Snape was about to go back inside, a furious roar in Parseltongue burst from within the house, Marvolo's voice, thick with rage and humiliation.
"My daughter, the pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin, fancies a filthy, worthless Muggle wretch... you disgusting little Squib, you dirty little disgrace!"
A shrill scream followed, splitting the air. Ogden shielded his head with his arms and stumbled out of the house in panic. Dumbledore followed behind him at a measured pace.
Ogden, looking like a frightened rabbit, scrambled up the dirt track, then turned sharply onto the main road, where he ran straight into the chestnut horse.
Tom and Cecilia burst into laughter at the sight of the disheveled man and his bizarre clothes.
As their bright laughter rang out behind him, Dumbledore joined Snape, gave him a light pat on the arm, and signaled that it was time to leave.
He gripped Snape's forearm, and together they soared upward, past the bright summer sky, higher and higher through the dark, until they landed softly on the carpet of the Headmaster's office.
By then, dusk had fallen like a veil across the heavens, and layers of lead-gray clouds drifted over the castle grounds.
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and several lamps lit up at once, their warm glow driving away the shadows of the room.
"As for what happened later," he said, moving to sit behind his desk, "Tiberius told me that Ogden returned to the Gaunt house with reinforcements. They subdued Marvolo and Morfin, and later the Wizengamot convicted them. After serving their sentences, they were released.
"However, from what Ogden implied, it seems Morfin was later imprisoned again, for murdering the Riddle family."
"Are you planning to visit Morfin in Azkaban?" Snape asked, taking the seat opposite him.
"In time," Dumbledore sighed. "The Order of the Phoenix has been keeping me quite busy lately. I haven't even had the chance to introduce you to the rest of the members.
"When there's time, would you like to come along to Azkaban?"
"I'd rather not," Snape said. "I don't have much fondness for that place. You can go without me. But I am interested in the Gaunt House, don't leave me behind when you go there."
"Very well," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "This trip has yielded more than I expected."
"Indeed, Professor," Snape agreed. "We've found another possible Horcrux, haven't we?"
"Excellent," Dumbledore said approvingly. "Even though we still don't know where the other three might be, besides the diadem, this is solid progress.
"Having you involved, though sometimes a strain on my blood pressure, does speed things along quite a bit."
"Shall I bring you some Muggle blood-pressure medicine, Professor?" Snape said with a faint grin.
He already knew about Tom's diary but saw no reason to mention it just yet. There would be time for that later.
"Professor," Snape said after a moment, recalling the ring engraved with the Peverell crest, "do you still have Potter's Invisibility Cloak?"
"You recognized that symbol?" Dumbledore raised his brows. "I returned the Cloak to James over the winter holidays."
"Of course. What wizard hasn't heard of The Tale of the Three Brothers?" Snape said calmly. "I even had a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard as a child.
"But if you've returned the Invisibility Cloak to Potter, won't he just bring it back to school again?"
"I told him," Dumbledore replied, "that if it were ever confiscated again, it would not be returned. I expect he won't take that risk."
"Then you're certain that cloak is, ?" Snape asked deliberately.
"Although that cloak is most unusual, I can see through it," Dumbledore said. "So, I cannot be sure it is the legendary Cloak of Death itself, perhaps my magic is simply too powerful for it."
Since their purpose for the night had been fulfilled, Snape rose to take his leave, eager to return to the comfort of his warm bed.
But as he turned to go, Dumbledore called after him.
"Severus, lately, when I take a wrong turn on my way to the lavatory in the early morning, I haven't been able to find that 'Room of Requirement', the one with the luxurious chamber pot. Any idea why that might be?"
"Oh? Really?" Snape replied smoothly. "I've no idea, Professor. Good night."