Legal Technicalities
It seemed that the tramp had some issue with the law, according to Mr Abbott. Not that Mary expected otherwise: there was indeed justice in this world, if that filthy woman would be punished for what she did to Tom! At least, that was the only reason why they were told that Tom had to testify.
Perhaps, it was a good thing that she survived: death was a too light punishment for her crimes! She had to suffer at least ten-fold as much as Mary and her family! Of course, there was the issue of the marriage’s validity, but Thomas had contacted their attorney as soon as that Dr Pomfrey had moved the tramp out of Riddle House.
What Mary didn’t like, was that Tom had been assigned a court-appointed lawyer. According to Thomas, it was because the tramp now belonged to the aristocracy and those stuck-up nobles wanted to get the upper hand by imposing an incompetent on Tom. At least, the oaf had accepted to meet them in their lawyer’s office.
They would hit two pigeons with one stone, actually. Thomas had sent all the documents that Mr Abbott left them, asking Mr Stevens to comb them for any useful loophole.
On 7th February, at half-past three in the afternoon, Mary and Thomas, with Tom, were ushered into Mr Stevens’ office. She was offered a cup of tea stronger than her tastes, while her men were given the choice between the warm brewage or whisky—neither was a good sign.
“The good news is that, indeed, your daughter-in-law, and thus your grandson, might inherit the barony if her brother dies without heir. The bad news, however, is that your grandson won’t have any claim if the marriage is annulled as you wish: see?” Mr Stevens pointed a line on the old document. “‘Heir general of the body lawfully begotten and to be begotten’. Same goes for the late Mr. Cowper’s will.”
Mary massaged her temples. She had tolerated the wench into her house only because of Little Thomas’ usefulness! It would have been so much simple if that tramp hadn’t survived! Now they were stuck with that ugly woman if they wanted Uncle George’s inheritance.
“Are you sure there is no loophole?” Mary asked.
“What about a divorce?” added Thomas.
“Divorce could be granted only in case of adultery, bigamy or impotence.”
“Very well, we’ll do everything—”
“Thomas! How could you further tarnish the Riddle name!” Mary gasped at last, glaring at her husband.
They couldn’t accuse the tramp of adultery or bigamy, ugly as she was, and it would be too shameful to to make public Tom’s recent impairment.
“Besides,” she continued, “for that our son would have to stay married to that wench!”
“Fa-father, you can’t ask that of me!” Tom cried, standing up. “We get rid of that witch and her hellish spew! Drown them, burn them! Send them back into the devilish hell they come from!”
“Tom, my dear, stop talking nonsense…” she coddled with a mix of harshness and concern.
It was certainly a side effect of the tramp’s drug. Not only it made Tom elope and sleep with that ugly wench, but also messed up with his mind. Probably it had absinthe mixed in; there was no other way to explain such talk of magic spells!
“I didn’t make it up, Mother! That woman is a witch and she’ll curse all of us into her bidding if we don’t get rid of her!” Tom cried in a croaking voice—it remined Mary when he was five. “Why don’t you believe me…”
“I do believe you, Mr Riddle,” Mr Stevens said, unexpectedly.
Mary glared at him, trying to hide the rage boiling inside her. They shouldn’t encourage Tom’s delusions, quite the contrary! But if Tom didn’t get any better, maybe she should send him in a Swiss institution until his mind was healed—she heard they were the best. She steeled her back, lifting her chin just a bit.
“I don’t—”
A knock, and a young woman opened the door.
“Err… Mr Stevens is here to see Esq. Riddle, Mrs Riddle, and Mr Riddle, sir.”
The newcomer looked like a younger version of Mr Stevens, lankier and without gut. His dimpled smile was trustworthy, his clothes were impeccable—he didn’t look incompetent or an oaf. And yet… and yet there was something in the lawyer than made Mary edgy. Or probably it was Tom’s reaction. Her son stood up, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the man, his eyes wide with terror as if he had seen a ghost.
“You-you are like her—Stay away!”
“Thomas George Riddle! Where are your manners?!” Mary reproached him.
The newcomer, however, waved his hand in dismissal. “Worry not, Madam: Mr Riddle’s reaction is expected.”
“So… your lot is involved,” Mr Stevens said gloomy. He sighed, standing up. “Madam, sirs, may I introduce you my eldest son, Albert? A quite talented lawyer, a shame he can’t succeed me in the firm.”
Mary and Thomas glanced at each other, trying to figure out what their lawyer meant. Did his son decide to step out the family and make a name of himself?
“Well, Father, as ‘Ministry v Gaunt’ proves: there is a need of lawyers who can bridge between wizarding and Muggle law,” his son replied matter-of-factly—Mary understood less than half of what he said, but appreciated his professional tone. “But we have a lot of work to do right now and we can discuss it next Sunday.”
He looked around, then pulled a wooden stick from his jacket’s inner pocket and flicked his wrist—Tom jumped back with a whimper, his face ashen. Mary grasped her husband’s arm when a chair appeared out of thin air, for Mr Albert Stevens to sit on.
“Now, I was told that you are aware of Miss Gaunt’s “peculiarity”, Mr Riddle,” the younger lawyer said, looking at Tom.
“She-she’s a witch!”
“Not exactly, but Miss Gaunt still falls under wizarding jurisdiction.”
Mary scoffed. She wanted to tell him he was talking nonsense—but then, she did see that chair appearing, it wasn’t hidden somewhere or anything! She took a deep breath and held her purse tighter. There was always a sensible explication, and being shocked or overwhelmed wouldn’t help solve the problem. She had to keep her cool, no matter what.
“Would you mind to explain?”
Mr Albert Stevens waved his stick again. This time, a blackboard appeared.
“I apologise if I keep it short, but I was given permission to reveal only the necessary information. To make a long story short: wizards, witches, goblins and fairies do exist and are hidden in plain sight. However, not all magical-gifted humans are the same. There are those of pure wizarding ancestry, the Pureblood; those like me who are born into a non-magical family—the Muggleborn—and those who have no magic despite being born into a wizarding family—the Squib. By her own father’s admission, Miss Gaunt likely falls under the last category.”
As he spoke, each word and its definition appeared on the blackboard.
A wave of shame hit Mary when she glanced at Tom. How could she not believe him? How could she think that he was becoming as deranged as the tramp and her family?
“Said this, we have laws meant to protect us and keep us hidden from you, the Muggles—”
“Then why are you telling us?” Thomas said, narrowing his eyes.
Albert Stevens made a pinched smile. “The Wizengamot, our High Court, needs your son’s testimony. But don’t worry: as soon as this is over, an Obliviator will alter your memories accordingly: Miss Gaunt will return to be nothing more than the village’s tramp who drugged your son into marriage. If you have any further questions, I’m not authorised to answer them unless they’re related to the case.”
Thomas opened his mouth, but then shut it. Mary as well had many questions, but why voice them if they would stay unanswered, or she would forget everything soon? She didn’t like the idea of someone tampering with her memories, but she would gladly forget everything—even better if all the villagers and their acquaintance forgot about it, as if it never happened.
“Miss Gaunt is charged with continued administration of a potion to a Muggle,” Albert Stevens said. “This, madam and sirs, is a felony under our laws.”
Now, that is good news, Mary wished to say, but something in that wizard lawyer held her back. The wizard lawyer asked Tom to recall the days he spent under the potion’s effect. It was embarrassing to listen Tom, not only because of his unlikely swooning behaviour, but most of all for his stuttering and refusal to look at them—just like when he was six and made some mischief.
“The potion batch was likely expired,” the wizard lawyer said. “Amortentia grows more potent as it matures: after three weeks since brewing, it can no longer be sold over the counter. We’ve had a potion black market issue since the end of the war, so if Miss Gaunt collaborate in dismantling the criminal ring behind it, her sentence could be lessened or permuted. Also, she stopped administering the potion of her free will, which the Wizengamot will see as repentance and good will.”
Mary tightened her lips, not liking the idea of the tramp getting away with it by spitting a couple of names or because she changed her mind.
“What about the marriage? Mr Riddle wasn’t in his right mind at the time. Maybe your laws are different?” Mr Stevens said.
The son asked for the marriage certificate and read it throughout.
“A Muggle marriage involving at least one magical spouse needs to be rectified at the Wizarding Registry within one year and one day to be valid,” the wizarding lawyer replied. “And since wizarding law supersede Muggle law, Mr Riddle marriage to Miss Gaunt will become automatically void on the 15th February, with everything that it entails.”
“Thus, the child will be illegitimate,” Mr Stevens Sr. said. “At least according to our law.”
“In fact, the Gaunt family head could demand the legitimatio per rescriptum magorum; however—” The wizarding lawyer counted on his fingers— “the child would be legitimated a Gaunt, not a Riddle; Mr. Gaunt has been found dead in his home, and his son still has to terminate his sentence in Azkaban, our prison, so none of them can demand it in a timely manner. Last but not least, there is no way that those Purebloods would recognise a Half-blood child as one of their own.” He gave them a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid that the only manner you have to legitimate the child as a Riddle is to rectify the marriage.”
“I won’t!” Tom cried. “I won’t have anything to do with that witch and her spew!”
“Tom, please! You’re of no help!” Mary tried to calm him.
Was there really no way out? Would they be burdened with the tramp for the rest of their lives? They could make without the peerage, but what about Uncle Charles’ inheritance? A dull burning grew into her stomach—it was so unfair! If only Tom hadn’t had that accident, if only he would still able to have children…
Indeed, it would have been better if that filthy tramp died after whelping.
“Can we rectify this marriage, and ask for a divorce?” Thomas asked, still clinging on that crazy idea.
“I can look into the matter,” the wizarding lawyer admitted. “However, keep in mind that the Pureblood families would push for a verdict that favour them.”
Thomas and Mary glanced at each other, the same question darting in their eyes.
“I beg your pardon?”
The wizarding lawyer waved his wand again. A news paper appeared in front of them, opening to the ninth page: the article was about a divorcee’s scandalous remarriage—the moving photograph showed a British man and a black very pregnant woman. Mary couldn’t tell what was more scandalous: the bride being a divorcee, pregnant, or of a different race.
“Just like you, Mme Kama was manipulated into a relationship by Mr Lestrange, although he used the Imperius Curse instead of Amortentia,” the wizarding lawyer said, glancing at Tom. “When Mme Kama managed to break the curse, she denounced Mr Lestrange. Probably, her divorce to Mr Kama could have been reverted and Mr Lestrange sentenced to life imprisonment had she addressed the French Magenmagot. But she pleaded to the Wizengamot, without keeping into consideration the Lestranges’ influence.”
Mary didn’t like the sound of it.
“I must suppose he got away with it,” she growled.
“Mr Lestrange had impregnated Mme Kama, so he had his charges dropped thanks to a reparatory marriage,” the wizarding lawyer replied bitterly. “Mme Kama came from an old, pureblood French family of Ghanian heritage who claimed to descend from the Tendamba, a lineage of ruling priests. A tolerable match for a likewise old and pure-blooded family like the Lestrange.”
“She still married him?” Tom cried, standing up despite his whole body trembled. “She married him despite he cursed her?”
“Mme Kama received so much peer pressure and shaming that she gave in. On the other hand, it was time for Mr Lestrange to get married and father an heir, so he did although already bored with Mme Kama. The joke was on him, though,” he chuckled. “She birthed a daughter instead of the expected son.”
“What happened then?” Mary asked, giving in to her thirst for gossip—no, it wasn’t gossip, she was collecting useful information to use to her advantage, she told herself.
“Mme Kama died shortly after giving birth, while Mr Lestrange remarried within three months,” the wizarding lawyer replied, his voice taking a gloomier tone. “However, this time we aren’t dealing with two Pureblood families, but the Gaunts, who claim their blood is purer than spring water, and a Muggle family—”
“Are you looking down on us, the Riddles of Little Hangleton?!” Thomas interrupted him, slamming his fist on the table.
The wizarding lawyer raised his hands in a calming gesture.
“I’m on your side, Sir, and respect a fine family like yours. Alas, the same can’t be told about most of the wizarding Pureblood families: in their eyes, this marriage is like…” He pinched his lips, probably thinking about the best way to explain it. “The Princess Royal eloping with a stableboy, or the Prince of Wales with a divorced commoner.”
A mix of offence and understanding swarmed into Mary’s head. If she got it right, then that wizard court was likely to push the blame on Tom, probably they could even take the child away. She was so overwhelmed that she didn’t follow the discussion any longer.
There was no way out of that cursed marriage, not if she wanted to keep Uncle Charles’ inheritance and an heir for the family!
If only that damn tramp had died in childbirth—if only Tom could still father a child…