Prodigious Birth of Love
“She’s not long for this world.” Morrigan Gaunt had said upon seeing her granddaughter, Merope, for the first time. She held the gurgling baby disinterestedly in her arms for a few more moments before handing her back to her daughter-in-law.
Morrigan was older than she had any right to be and had two milky eyes which (she claimed) could see into the future. Time took the clear green of her irises like a slowly darkening sky.
“The outer eye clouds as the inner eye brightens.” She was fond of saying in her slow low raspy voice. She perpetually smelled like absinth and orange liqueur and liked to give out unsolicited predictions during family gatherings.
While the family had their doubts about it, Morrigan had predicted the last few family deaths with uncanny accuracy and hearing her prediction upon the birth of her daughter had made Merope’s mother, Delphina, cry.
Still, despite her grandmother’s prophecy of early demise, Merope Gaunt was born pink and healthy with a head full of black hair in 1907. Seven was a lucky number for witches and wizards, and, even in light of their humble living conditions, the Gaunts were hopeful this child might turn around their misfortunes.
And while her childhood had been in no way ideal, the first five years of her life passed in relative peace. The Gaunt family was able to live off of their fertile piece of land as well as a small stipend provided by Mrs. Gaunt’s wealthy great aunt Gertrude.
As an infant, Delphina dressed her in layers of white muslin, soft cotton, and flowery lace. Of course, she had dressed Morfin in the same swaddling clothes, which were the same their father had worn before them. Nevertheless, Mrs. Gaunt took pride in how pretty little Merope looked in antique white; she would often sew ribbons into rosebuds and pin them on her daughter’s bonnets or tie a bow into her soft curls.
Her mother tidied the house with a dozen spells going at once; her magic kept the candles glowing and the hearth warm with fire. Delphina made her children’s clothing with strong stiches and soft fabrics. If their small cottage was pleasant and comfortable, it was only because Mrs. Gaunt hung curtains in the windows, arranged their shelves with pleasing trinkets, and bought pictures for the walls.
For as much function as Delphina brought into the lives of her family, she considered herself quite scatter brained. She often skipped reading the labels on ingredient vials and more than once used salt rather than sugar to bake a cake.
As Merope grew into a precocious toddler, Marvolo Gaunt would walk about the garden with her soft hand tucked soundly inside his own as he told her the names of all the plants and how best to make them grow.
“These are asphodels, darling.” He said pointing down to a bed of white and yellow lilies. Her father reached down and snapped a few long stems brimming with flowers and brought them to Merope’s ready hands.
“Az-fo-dells.” She repeated in her small voice. Merope pressed the lilies against her nose to smell their sweet breath.
“Yes, wonderful, Merope. You must plant them in the shade, or their delicate petals will burn. Legend says that they’re the only flower that will grow in the underworld.”
“That’s motherwort, for healing, and aconite, for hurting. What’s this one?” He picked a pink bell-shaped bud and held it close to her face. She added it to her growing bouquet with a mischievous smile.
“Witch’s Finger.” She said crinkling her nose and wiggling her finger at the funny name.
“Precisely,” Her father said as she clutched the flowers in her little bundle. “How good you are at botany, my little witchling. You’ll make a wonderful brewer.”
He kept his stockpile of herbs, plant cuttings, and potion ingredients on the kitchen shelves beside Delphina’s eclectic collection of spices. They were both brewers at heart. Their tiny cottage contained a stockpile of unusual potions and colorful glass bottles.
“I could be a better brewer than her any day. She’s just a stupid baby.” Morfin loudly objected as he made his way into the garden. His steps were like lead as he trampled small plants beneath his feet.
“Am not!” Merope cried out with indignation.
There had always been something off about Morfin and no kindness was ever fostered between the siblings. Without parental observation Morfin, more often than not, took special means to terrorize his sister. For her part, Merope came to view Morfin’s aggression and anger as a confirmation of his inferiority.
The first time she knew she was more than her brother Merope was four years old. He was making a mess of their front garden. His hands and knees were smudged brown and green by mud and plants. Mr. Gaunt was going to be furious when he saw what they had done to his herb patch.
Their mother had told them a story about magic stones hidden deep in the earth that granted eternal life to the one who possessed them. Morfin had thought the wisest thing to do was begin the search in the herb garden.
As luck would have it, during his hasty excavation, he disturbed the nest of a garden snake. Upon hearing a distinct hiss and seeing two long sharp fangs, Morfin let out a great squeal and landed flat on his bottom.
Rather than hearing a hiss, Merope perked up as a whispery voice slithered from the mouth of the angry little snake.
“Stupid boy, ruining my nest. Ugly child, screaming the tasty mice away.” She saw it rear back to strike out and decided to speak up.
“Wait, Mr. Snake! We are awfully sorry. We didn’t know you lived in our garden, please forgive us.” A curious look overcame Mr. Snake’s face as he glanced over at Merope.
“Ah, you are one of them I see. I shall forgive your trespasses, serpent-friend, but warn the terrible boy to quit disturbing the soil. He will dig up his death in an adder’s teeth.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, the small grass snake slithered past terrified Morfin and patient Merope as he made his way to the wilderness beyond their home.
Needless to say, when her brother rushed to tell their parents what had just happened, they both beamed with pride. Merope remembered the way her father’s eyes would light up with satisfaction whenever she showed her ability to talk to their tiny garden snakes.
Morfin seethed with envy. Merope didn’t care, she didn’t think he could do anything that wasn’t brutish or boyish or terrible. He was messy. He screamed and pouted and broke their mummy’s pretty teacups. He yelled at his father and pushed his sister.
But it never seemed to matter because whenever Morfin broke something Mrs. Gaunt would take out her willow-wood wand to repair it. When he screamed, Mr. Gaunt would send him to bed without supper. And Merope never let Morfin push her without getting up to push him back.
And so, the Gaunt family was happy for a while. Until they were not.
Delphina’s aunt Gertrude had never liked Marvolo Gaunt. She let her niece know all throughout their courtship that she ought to marry a Black or Malfoy.
“Salazar Slytherin’s blood is wasted on that boy, Delphi. He is utterly useless, just like his father was. He swindled away all their money, you know. Gold his forefathers has fought dragons for! Gone. It’s a disgrace. His son cannot give you the life you deserve.”
But young love is powerful. They married in a lush meadow while the cornflowers and daisies were in bloom. The air was as sweet as honey, heavy from their perfumed pollen. Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt’s families erected colorful tents full of pies, cakes, and butter beer. And while the Sacred Twenty-Eight were not a crowd known for their cheer, there was not a moment during the Gaunt wedding that there could not be heard a spell of laughter or seen a cluster of smiles.
Gertrude called love a poison the day Delphina got married and decided that since she would not see her favorite niece become a destitute housewife, she would provide the Gaunts with the means to live comfortably. Enough for a happy life—but not so much as to spoil them. Delphi had married against Gertrude’s wishes after all.
While Marvolo found her to be as unpleasant as she did him, he didn’t refuse the support she provided and came to rely on it instead of expanding his herbology business. He still worked—tending to his specialty plants and keeping his handful of clients happily supplied with whatever they needed. Gertrude’s deep pockets kept him a man of hobbies rather than industry. And so long as Delphina was happy, so to were Marvolo and Gertrude.
This didn’t, however, keep them from squabbling during family holidays.
During the winter of her sixth year, Merope had been given a set of fur-lined navy gloves by her mother and father. The fabric was woven with a durability spell and the edges were embroidered with a swirling vine of white roses. They had cost the Gaunts a pretty penny. Merope was excited to show them to her great aunt during Christmas dinner.
Gertrude lived in a country manor large enough to include a gallery of life-size statues, two libraries, and a great hall with an enchanted mural of the sky. Morfin and Merope visited during the summer season and often found themselves lost for an hour or two in the massive home or garden labyrinth.
More than anyone, Marvolo abhorred being stuck in the luxurious mansion, which he considered gaudy and distasteful, even for just an evening. He hated the way Gertrude would comment on how natural the children seemed to fit into their “ancestral surroundings.” How she gave directions on how his son and daughter ought to be educated, dressed, and disciplined as if she had a say in it.
Most of their exchanges were stifled and awkward in nature. Although it was nearly impossible to avoid having a conversation with her, he did his best to keep a polite distance and speak as little as possible while remaining cordial.
For what they did not know would be their final family Christmas, Merope ran past her father and right up to the sparkling silver robes of her great aunt. The little girl was dressed in a velvet red and green pinafore with purple stockings.
“Aunty Gertrude, look at my gloves! Mummy and daddy had them made special for me by Father Christmas.”
As Gertrude shared delighted awe in her great-niece’s new gloves, the evening began pleasantly enough.
Just as it had been done every year, Christmas dinner was being served in the formal dining room. The long table was covered in a deep crimson cloth and piled high with golden dishes of buttery potatoes, glossy boats of gravy, tender roasted meats, pickled vegetables, decadent cheeses, and colorful puddings. The room was lavishly dripping in holiday cheer—an enormous tree with wooden toy ornaments and twinkly glowing baubles hanging from every limb. Wreaths of holly were hung with golden ribbons and silver bells, and fragrant pine tree trimmings gave the room a festive aroma.
“I was sorry to hear the news of your mother, Marvolo. Morrigan was a powerful witch and a...remarkable seer.”
“Thank you, aunt Gertrude.” Marvolo replied quietly. “She predicted it herself before she passed. Got it right down to the minute.”
“Truly remarkable.”
After that the topics of conversation remained light and amiable. Delphi talked about her newest home projects and the successful yield of their spring and summer florals, of the developing friendship between Merope and the local snakes and of Morfin’s promising athletic abilities.
“Sounds like a boy headed straight for the quidditch team at school.” Gertrude said happily as she lifted another bit of potato to her mouth. When silence followed her comment, Gertrude looked across the table with a quirking eyebrow.
“I assume Morfin will be heading to Hogwarts next year to begin his education. How wonderful it will be to have another Slytherin in the family.”
Marvolo grit his teeth at the dig but otherwise remained passive and quiet in his chair.
“Well,” Delphina began as she placed the embellished silver cutlery down, “Aunt Gerty, um.” She coughed a bit before continuing. “Marv and I have decided that we would like to educate Fin at home.”
“Have you?” Even little Merope could feel the way the mood of the room shifted with Gertrude’s unhappiness. Her mother reached over to grasp her husband’s hand.
“Yes, Gertrude. We have.” Marvolo spoke up firmly.
“Hm.”
“You see, Aunty Gerty, due to your generosity, Marv and I are able to spend so much wonderful time with the children. We want to continue to dedicate ourselves to their betterment through their education.” Mrs. Gaunt smiled sweetly through her explanation, having rehearsed it several times to herself before that night.
“Mhm. So, this doesn’t have to do with the…recent unintentional progressive actions that have taken place?” She said while starring directly at her nephew-in-law.
“Oh, Aunty.” Delphina sighed heavily as she brought her hands up to rub her temples. Marvolo instantly tensed with defensiveness and indignation.
“And what if it does?” He asked in a gruff voice.
Recently, through no machination of any witch or wizard, Hogwarts had seen an unprecedented spike in its number of muggle-born students. And, although this was rather odd, nothing was more strange than the admittance of muggle-born students into the famed Slytherin House. Needless to say, the situation did not sit well with Mr. Gaunt or many of the other pure-blood families that stuck to the old ways and bigoted traditions of blood supremacy.
“Oh, I knew you were at the root of this, Marvolo. Your politics will be the ruin of you and your children.”
“How dare you. I am protecting them.” He scornfully replied.
“From what exactly? Headmaster Phineas Black is a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake. And a suspected pureblood supremacist as well. I should think you would quite like politics of that awful man despite the recent turn of school affairs.”
“Yes, the recent influx of half-bloods and muggle-borns. Our way of life is being threatened. Over a thousand years of tradition!”
By this time Mrs. Gaunt and the children had gone completely silent as their bitter words were exchanged.
“Oh, come off of it, Marvolo. Our numbers are diminishing by the year. If you keep up this line of thinking, poor Merope and Morfin will have marry each other.” At this comment both children made vague faces of disgust.
“And what kind of proper education can a boy receive at home?” She continued in her deep annoyance. Her red lips were pursed, and her light grey eyes were wide with barely contained fury.
“You will not dictate how I raise my children!” Mr. Gaunt snapped.
“Well someone ought to in light of your most recent negligence and poor decision making! You aren’t qualified to teach anyone, let alone the heirs of Slytherin! Hogwarts is the best place for both of them to go, Delphina, and I cannot believe you are letting this man jeopardize their futures.” As she spoke, she jabbed her bejeweled finger in her niece’s direction.
“The House of my fathers a place for, for, half-bloods, blood traitors, and mudbloods. I won’t have my children see their ancestors tarnished with such fervent disregard.” Marvolo finished his tirade he harshly brought his fists down on the table, rattling the many porcelain dishes.
“How dare you use that sort of language at my table! In my home!” She stood from her chair in outrage and Marvolo followed suit as they continued to exchange heated insults.
“Please, lets’ all sit down, this can all be resolved.” Delphina implored loudly as the yelling intensified. Even the house elves shifted uncomfortably during the heated exchange.
“Leave this house, immediately.” Gertrude’s enchanted voice boomed and echoed in the dining room.
Mr. Gaunt immediately stormed through the tall arched doorway to the large marble fireplace they had used to floo in earlier. In dismay Delphina gathered the children, who were in that moment close to tears, and followed out after her husband. Pleadingly she cast a final glance to her aunt over her shoulder but was coldly rebuked as Gertrude refused to meet her eyes.
Weeks later an unfamiliar owl arrived carrying a message from Gertrude’s account manager and lawyer informing the Gaunts that the next month’s check would be the last. Delphina immediately began to panic as their family had come to rely significantly upon the monthly pension.
“If you will just apologize, she will give us back what she has taken, Marv.”
“I will not apologize! That bitter old windbag can keep her gold. Let her rot with it.”
“Please, darling, think of the children. We need that income to keep our lifestyle which you seem very intent on protecting.” Delphina urged her husband as gently as possible but couldn’t contain her desperation for his feud with her aunt to end.
“You should be interested in protecting it as well.” He said accusingly.
“Of course, I am, Marv. That is why you must apologize to Gertrude.”
“That will not happen, Delphi. It is about respectability and tradition. I will not compromise my beliefs. I will not set that example for the children.”
All Delphina could do in response was sigh into her folded hands and accept her husband’s stubborn stance.
Since there would be no reconciliation, their lifestyle required drastic change. So Marvolo and Delphina set to work expanding their herbology business. Their kitchen began to overflow with vials of floral oil, bottles of dried herbs, colorful piles of pressed flowers, and bundles of magical herbs bound in strips of clean linen. Space for food and space for potion ingredients began to morph together.
With an influx of new clients, days for Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt became much longer. They ran themselves ragged in order to keep up with it. Mr. Gaunt began preparing himself and his wife special brews of tea in order to energize them during their late evenings.
More than once, Merope had woken up in the morning to find her mother asleep at the kitchen counter, head cushioned upon a pile of herbs.
“Rise and shine, mummy.” Merope would shake her mother softly. Delphina would stretch and crack as she awoke and bring her daughter into a tight embrace.
“What a perfect way to wake up.” She would say into her daughter’s sweetly smelling hair.
The children were sent to work every day in the garden, a task neither particularly liked but it kept them engaged enough to not complain too loudly. Morfin was still cruel and stupid, bothering Merope to tears sometimes. She often resorted to threatening to set a snake upon him, a threat Morfin took seriously as his sister had done it before.
For years their lives passed in this way. The Gaunts were tired, but happy enough. Not so happy as they were before, but content none the less.
One spring, when Merope was 10 but would be 11 by the time the autumn rolled around, a letter of acceptance from Hogwarts arrived informing Merope of her admittance into the prestigious institution. She felt a flicker of excitement at the idea of going to a castle to learn and be with other children her age. It was her legacy, she thought, to walk the halls her forefather founded.
When she saw her father toss the letter into the bright orange flames of the fireplace she dashed into her room and cried for hours. She didn’t want to work in the soil and mud until her knees ached. Her mind yearned for challenge and intrigue and more.
She heard a melodic tapping on her door and heard her mother quietly slip into her room. She kept her face down in the cushion of her pale blue pillow. Delphina sat down beside the prone form of her daughter and placed her hand upon Merope’s long brown hair.
“I’m sorry, turtledove. We only want what is best for you.”
“Then you should let me go.” Her watery voice was muffled by the down feathers of her pillow.
“You know we cannot do that. But we can have plenty of fun learning here together.” Her mother ran her fingers through Merope’s hair. Merope pushed her face further into her cushion and did not reply. She heard her mother let out a sigh and rise up from the bed.
“Someday you’ll see we did what’s best for you.” Delphina said as she headed for the door.
“No, I won’t.” She replied stubbornly. Merope heard the door open and felt her heart sink with anger and disappointment. She felt as though her wings were being clipped.
“I love you very much, Merope.” Her mother said at the doorway. Merope remained silent as Delphina gently closed the door and headed towards the kitchen for another late night of mixing herbs and pickling plants.
The next morning Merope was awoken as the warm fingers of dawn reached through the grey fog and into her bedroom. She still felt rather sullen about the events of yesterday but decided not to break routine. So, she put on a pair of thick wool socks and wrapped herself in a blanket before heading into the kitchen to awaken her mother.
Her feet padded down the hallway, making soft thuds against the thick floral rugs. She saw Delphina hunched over the counter, her long dark hair obscuring her face. Merope rubbed her blurry eyes and immediately felt something off. She reached out a hand to tap her mother’s shoulder.
“Mummy, time to rise and shine.” She said sleepily, but Delphina didn’t move from her spot. Merope looked over and saw that her mother’s mug of tea was half full and that most of her work was in an unfinished pile beside her.
“Mummy?” Merope shook her mother harder this time and noticing how cold her shoulder was. All traces of lingering sleep left her body as she dropped her blanket and felt her heartbeat speed up.
“Mum, wake up, can you hear me?” She gave her mother one last final push. Instead of waking up, her mother’s body toppled with a thud. Delphina’s face was devoid of her usual rosy complexion; she had lost all color and her lips were white. Her eyes seemed sunken and purple.
Merope’s loud screaming startled Mr. Gaunt out of bed that morning. He ran out to the kitchen to find his daughter horrified and weeping over the body of his wife, now dead.
His memory of the hours immediately following this discovery are sparse. Authorities from the Ministry were called in, supposedly by him although he has no memory on calling them. She had poisoned herself, they said, by accident. Her mug half full of col tea was brewed with a poison that looked nearly identical to the blend they had been using at night to keep awake. He had told her to be careful, she was prone to making mistakes like that—salt instead of sugar. Only this time, this time it was deadly.
She was buried quietly in her family’s graveyard. Marvolo made sure her headstone was made from pearlescent grey marble. It looked like the inside of a seashell and all around the border were intricate etchings of violets, irises, and roses. Delphina’s funeral had been a well-attended proper affair. Everyone in the crowd was draped in black robes and wore mournful faces. They sang dirges long into the night and kept the candles burning until the sky blushed pink with the morning. Merope, exhausted and broken, left a lily on the new headstone, and then headed back towards her father's retreating form. She never saw her mother's grave again.
Although life continued after Delphina’s demise, as it is undaunted by death, the Gaunts never regained their former happiness.