we share our skies II
The art of potion making was delicate, but going through the motions was familiar enough to Elise to be relaxing. She liked losing herself in the meticulous measure of ingredients, the stirring of her cauldron and slow pouring of magic into her brews.
It took six hours for the weaning potion to be finished. When Elise was done, she filled a vial with her preparation and apparated out of the potions laboratory her parents had been built her into a little way away from her uncle’s kitchen. She poured the potion into a teacup and brought it to her cousin’s room.
Tom had to be cajoled into drinking it, but Elise was patient with him. She understood his terror; the last time he had taken anything from a witch, she had violated him in the worst possible way. After several minutes of encouragement, he drank and fell asleep soon after.
“He should be better tomorrow,” she announced to her aunt and uncle, who were watching him anxiously. “It won’t heal the... mental wounds she inflicted upon him since that’s not caused by magic, but the shakes will be gone, and his skin will gain some colour back. Then it will be up to us to make sure the memories fade.”
And he would stop reeking of magic withdrawal to her senses, she thought silently. It wasn’t anything a muggle could detect, but it was obvious to any competent wizard.
“Thank goodness,” breathed out Mary, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Thank you, niece,” said Thomas gruffly.
“It is nothing, uncle, to care for my dear cousin.”
Thomas inclined his head before asking. “Were you serious about taking the child back here?”
“I am. Tom is willing to raise them, and the Gaunt witch doesn’t deserve to have this child. Not when she violated my cousin to create them. But...”
She hesitated.
“Do you truly wish to remain in Little Hangleton, uncle?”
Their eyes widened.
“We can’t just leave the Manor!” exclaimed her aunt.
“I’ll not be chased away by these madmen,” added Thomas, pointing a finger at her. His expression was drawn and tight, a testament of his anger and exhaustion both.
Elise help up her hands. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. I was thinking I could move the house somewhere else. I studied Wizard Space as an elective, and it is a possible venture. It will take a few weeks, but Aunt, you mentioned hating it here. And the rumours...” She bit her lip. “If I bring the child here, they’ll find out and wonder where they came from. I don’t think Tom can take your neighbours’ curiosity in the state he’s in. You don’t have to, of course. We can also ask Mama and Father to pass them off as theirs. But maybe a fresh start would do you well,” she suggested.
The couple exchanged looks.
“We are asking a lot from you,” sighed her uncle heavily. “You are healing our son, getting revenge for us, and now you are talking about doing a month’s work so we can live at ease in another village... it is true that nothing keeps us here. I do business elsewhere, and Tom’s friends have deserted him since he was taken by that... horrible woman. Maybe we were always too good for this neighbourhood.”
“You are not asking for more than I am willing to provide,” she said firmly. “We are family. I will make the preparations for you. You’ll just need to buy a plot of land in an isolated area, so people don’t ask where the manor came from. I’ll touch it up, so it looks recently built and you’ll be golden,” she said brightly. She leaned in conspiratorially. “I did something similar for Etienne last year. He lives on the outskirts of London, you see, and the cost of building is sharper there than on the countryside, so we bought land there and a house elsewhere then moved the latter to the former. It’s quite strange to see a seaside cottage so far away from the beach, but it’s quite charming.”
“Magic is...”
Her aunt seemed lost for words.
“It’s terrifying,” said Elise firmly. “But it can be useful. Might I suggest a few areas? Tom’s son will likely be magical and mixed communities might be ,” she said, and her aunt and uncle flinched at this.
She paused. Her eyes softened. They likely hadn’t thought of it. Tom had; she’d seen it in his eyes when she had told him she’d bring the child back.
“I can take him in, if you find it too daunting. Tom will need to be consulted, it is his child after all, but I will not have you terrorised in your own home, Auntie, Uncle.”
They hesitated, but shook their heads firmly.
“Don’t speak nonsense, child, you are barely above majority. I will not make you a mother before your time. We will support our son and raise our grandchild to be an upstanding citizen, magical or no,” said Thomas firmly. “Clarence did well enough with you; we’ll just have to follow his lead.”
Elise beamed. Her parents weren’t here to hear the compliment, having decided to retire early for the evening, but she would delight in forwarding it to them.
Later, Elise asked Aunt Mary to tell her everything about their interaction with the Gaunts. Unfortunately, none of it warranted an intervention from the Aurors, so the young witch resigned herself to needing to create her own justice. Or vengeance, rather, given the lack of legality of her venture. She couldn’t find Merope without a starting point so she started with the odious woman’s relatives.
They were dangerous, but illiterate as they were, their spell repertoire was pitiful. Elise had benefitted from exemplary education and was the best student of her year who had had her pick of apprenticeships upon graduation, and only chose something more humble because potion making was her passion and she wished to be closer to her parents.
They didn’t expect her, and that gave her the upper hand. She stunned them both and took hold of their wands, though not before being insulted and having their House’s history thrown at her face like a taunt. She cast an Incarcerous, making sure their bonds were secure, and then reanimated them.
“You truly are filthy,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And destitute.” She sniffed. “Poverty is not a vice in muggles; common society is too hierarchised, and people are too powerless to stop it. You’re either born into privilege, or you aren’t. But you are wizards. You do not fear hunger or thirst; threats of homelessness mean nothing to you. A motivated thirteen-year-old can turn a hut into a palace if they so wish. It is pathetic to live like this when you have such power at your fingertips. Now, I’ll take a drop of your blood and you will make a Vow with me never to hurt or threaten a muggle again. If you do so, I will let you live. If you refuse, I’ll kill you with your own wands, make it look like you got in a fight and ended the Slytherin line you so admire for a petty dispute. The Gaunt name will die with you, and the only Parselmouth left in the world will be a half-blood by the name Riddle. So, what will it be?”
They refused, of course.
Elise heaved as she left the house. She puked in the gardens of the Gaunt Shack, then wiped her mouth.
She had never killed anyone before.
She didn’t think it would be so easy. She thought she would feel some regret, but she only felt vindication. She had gotten rid of the threat to her family.
And she had the Gaunts’ blood, so she could track down Merope, and Tom’s child.
***
Tom insisted on coming with her. She had protested at first; she didn’t want her cousin to be exposed to his rapist once more, but he said that this was his child and he needed to see for himself.
They apparated a block away from the location the map indicated.
They walked unhurriedly. Tom’s gaze was distant, though less tormented than he had been when she first saw him four days ago. Her own eyes were darting every which way. She wanted to be sure they wouldn’t get a nasty surprise upon arriving. If Merope had made some friends, they’d be in trouble. But this area of London didn’t seem magical at all. And once they arrived in front of the building her spell had indicated, she gasped upon seeing what it was. Tom tensed.
Wool’s Orphanage stood tall and forbidding in front of them.
“Did she abandon my child after everything she did?” hissed Tom, gripping Elise’s arm to stop his hand from trembling.
A woman in the courtyard came to greet them when she saw her hovering at the entrance.
“Are you looking for something?” asked the middle-aged woman in austere clothes who greeted them.
She tried to make herself seem kindly, but the way she was greedily looking upon Elise and her cousin’s expensive clothes was discomforting enough to break the illusion.
“Excuse me, has a child by the name of Riddle been dropped off here?” she asked politely.
Tom stayed silent.
The woman blinked, surprised. “Yes, indeed. His mother died in childbirth some time ago and left him in our care.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s asking?”
Elise glanced at her cousin, who had gone still at the news.
“My cousin Tom is his father. His... wife Merope took off without an explanation after an argument. She was... unwell, if you see what I mean,” she said with an affected sigh. “Only recently a friend of hers told me that she was pregnant when she left. We’ve been looking for her ever since.”
She didn’t bother explaining why and how she knew to come here; muggles often made their own assumptions if she didn’t over-explain things, and it was more convincing to them than any lie she could have told.
Tom belatedly nodded, his expression wooden.
The woman’s expression cleared. “That explains a lot about that woman’s odd behaviour. I am sorry for your loss, sir. I’ll give you the address of the cemetery she was buried in and take you to see Tom Jr.”
“Tom Jr?” murmured Elise.
“Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle, she named him. What a strange middle name,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s a lovely little boy, though his gaze is a little intense. He’s only seven months old, but--”
“I would like to see my child now, please,” said Tom abruptly.
“But, don’t you want to know about your wife?” asked the woman, narrowing her eyes.
Elise sighed and pulled out her wand. “Confundo.” At Tom’s worried look, she murmured, “it is only to confuse her. She’s too curious. Let’s get... Little Tom and go.”