Crack. 

Harry stopped suddenly at the sound, frowning as he looked around. He gazed at the walls, the floors, the stairs, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He started walking again, making his way down the Grand Staircase.

Crack. 

He stopped again as the sound happened again, only louder. A few other students travelling the Staircase stopped and looked around as well. He was about to dismiss the sound a second time when he looked at the landing he was about to step onto. There was a thin but long crack in the stone, stretching from the wall to about the center. He stepped onto the landing and crouched down, running his fingers over the crack.

He knew the castle was centuries old and cracks in stone were normal, but it didn’t seem right. Hogwarts wasn’t just any building and in all the time he’d attended, he had never seen such damage. He was certain the magic of Hogwarts prevented it from breaking down in such ways.

Feeling the break in the stone, he wasn’t sure what to think. Was this related to everything else that was different and changing in the school?

He stood and resumed his trek, unable to delay any longer. He had to get to Quidditch practice. They had their first match in only a few weeks and the new team was not functioning well. He finally understood why Wood had been so stuck up. It wasn’t that he had been conceited. He had been stressed about wanting to create and lead the best team. He’d had to replace nearly the entire team and he’d had to fight against accusations of favouritism when he chose both Ginny and Ron for the team.

Everyone had been great during tryouts, but now, during practice, it was like they either had no idea how to play the game or how to work as a team. There was constant fumbling and fighting.

With a sigh, he finished his trip by jogging to the change room. The entire team was already there, but they were changing in near silence. They all gave him small nods or quiet ‘heys’ as he passed, but that was it.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron said. “What’s up? You were nearly late.”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s nothing serious,” Harry said, changing quickly. He grabbed his Firebolt and turned to his team. “Right, let’s go, you lot.”

He watched them all get brooms from the closet, frowning at the slight shoves he saw some of them give others. He glanced at Ron who just gave him a small shrug and head shake, obviously unsure what was going on or what to do about it.

Shaking his own head, he followed his team out to the pitch.

“Alright, everyone, line up!” he called out and waited for the team to slowly make their way over. “We’ve got our first match in three weeks and we’ve got a lot to work on. So, today, we’re going to run through formations.”

A murmur ran through the team, but he ignored it.

“Let’s go, in the air. Formation five,” he said and clapped his hands, signaling the end of instruction.

He watched them all fly into position before flying up himself. He stayed off to the side to watch. He leaned on his broom, watching his team work intently. He groaned as things started going wrong, as usual. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote began swinging their Beater bats at each other, allowing the practice bludgers to circle freely. Demelza Robins threw the quaffle at Katie Bell’s back, knocking her hard in the head. Ginny started yelling at Jimmy and Ritchie when they nearly hit her while swinging their bats at each other.

After a few minutes, he flew over.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Enough! Get over here!”

The team flew to join him, still pushing and hitting and yelling.

“Enough!” he yelled again. The fighting stopped and they all looked at him, meeting his glare. “What in Merlin’s name is wrong with all of you? Can we not get a single play right? Do any of you know how to be a team?”

They all just stared at him so he looked at Katie.

“Katie, I know you can do this. You’ve been a part of this team for six years. We’ve played together for six years,” Harry said and Katie’s eyes dropped, indicating her shame and embarrassment. He passed his gaze over the rest of the team. “If you don’t want to even compete for the Cup, then, by all means, keep playing like morons. However, if you want to keep the Cup for Gryffindor, then I suggest you figure out your damn issues and play the way you all did during tryouts. I saw good players and good teammates that day, but those people seem to have all disappeared.”

He paused, taking in the team’s fallen expressions. “Now, prove me wrong or get off the pitch.”

No one moved.

“Formation five. Let’s go.”

Slowly, everyone turned and flew back to their starting positions for the play. Harry returned to his place on the side. The play started, and he couldn’t help but smile when it ended and he realized they finally performed a play properly for the first time since tryouts.

They practiced for another hour, managing to get through another two formations. He felt some pride as he called an end to practice and they all flew to the ground. He frowned and his pride disappeared when he saw Jimmy and Ritchie shove each other and Ginny and Katie glare at each other.

“Well, you got them to work for one practice at least,” Ron said, slowing down to match Harry’s pace.

“It needs to work for more than just a practice,” Harry said, sighing. “There’s something happening.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I’ve felt it and seen it too. Is the reason you were late related?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “Let’s get changed and then I’ll tell you.”

They changed quickly and headed back to the castle. On the way, Harry explained what had happened on his way to practice. He brought Ron to the mentioned landing and pointed to the crack that was still sitting in the stone, as though it was supposed to be there.

“I didn’t think this was even possible,” Harry said.

“It shouldn’t be, not without something physically causing it,” Ron said. “This castle is infused with magic, meant to prevent normal wear and damage.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, what could cause this?”

Ron shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“It is time you learn how Voldemort became what he is today,” Dumbledore said, getting up from his desk and opening a small glass cabinet filled with intricate glass vials. Some were empty, but others were filled with a shimmering, silvery-blue liquid that he knew to be memories. He watched the headmaster choose a vial and walk over to the cabinet he knew held a Pensieve. When Dumbledore gestured for Harry to join him at the Pensieve, he jumped to his feet and walked over.

Dumbledore held up the vial. “This is the memory of Bob Ogden, a Ministry official who encountered individuals that would unwillingly become some of Voldemort’s closest family members.”

Harry’s mind immediately started racing. He had never considered Voldemort’s family, had never thought about the wizard coming from somewhere and someone the way they all did. They obviously contributed to turning Voldemort into the monster he was or Dumbledore wouldn’t be showing memories featuring them. What had Voldemort’s family done to him? Was it anything like what he went through with the Dursleys?

“Ready?”

Harry refocused to realize Dumbledore had dumped the memory into the Pensieve and was waiting for Harry. He nodded and stepped up to the Pensieve, gazing down at the swirling liquid. As an image of a portly middle-aged man with large glasses came to the surface, he lowered his face to the Pensieve, submerging his face in the memory. He felt the pull he’d experienced a few times before and found himself falling into the memory, settling into it beside Dumbledore and outside a tiny, dilapidated house.

Harry gazed around at the dark forest that sat behind the shack and what appeared to be a small village not far up the dirt road the shack was on. His examination of the surroundings was interrupted by the man he had seen walk by and up to the shack. He raised an eyebrow at the man’s outfit. Ogden wore a dark-coloured frock-coat and spats over a one-piece suit with a striped pattern. Ogden clearly didn’t dress as a Muggle often. The man stepped up to the shack and paused before knocking, frowning at something on the door. Harry moved closer and was disturbed to see a dead snake pinned to the door.

Clearing his throat and choosing to move past the snake, Ogden knocked on the door. There was a lot of noise inside before the door was yanked open. Ogden jumped back in shock at the knife and wand pointed at him.

“He-hello, sir,” Ogden said, swallowing thickly. “My name is Bob Ogden. I am with the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement specifically. I am looking for a Mr. Morfin Gaunt.”

‘Leave,’ the young man with the knife said harshly.

Ogden frowned. “I’m sorry?”

‘Get out of here unless you wish to lose an eye,’ the young man threatened.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you Morfin Gaunt?” Ogden asked.

‘Idiot!” the young man shouted, making Ogden jump.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Why doesn’t he understand what the man is saying?”

“Do you not recognize the language?” Dumbledore asked casually.

Harry understood immediately. “He’s speaking in Parseltongue.”

Dumbledore gave a nod and Harry returned to the memory just in time to see the young man slice his wand through the air. Ogden stumbled backwards as he sputtered, a thick, yellow liquid pouring from his nose. Stunned by the magic cast on him, Ogden didn’t notice the Muggle couple walking by and collided with them, knocking them all to the ground.

“Oh! Oh, my apologies, good sir and young lady,” Ogden said to the couple. Holding a handkerchief to his nose, he used his free hand to assist the Muggles to their feet. “Are you alright, my dear?” he asked the young woman.

“Oh, yes, thank you, sir,” she said.

“No harm done,” the young man said, taking the woman’s hand. “Have a good day, sir.”

“And you,” Ogden said. He watched them for a moment before turning and returning to the shack. The young man with the knife was still in the doorway and cackling. “Now, sir, I must insist on speaking with Morfin Gaunt. This is a serious matter.”

‘Morfin!” another man’s voice called from inside the shack. This time, Harry recognized the Parseltongue. An older man with an angry, drawn face appeared in the door with the young man that was apparently Morfin. ‘What’re you doin’, boy? What’s this?’

‘Says he’s from the Ministry. Here for me, he says,’ Morfin said.

‘What for?’ the older man asked and Morfin shrugged. The man turned to Ogden. “What d’you want?”

“Hello, sir. My name is Bob Ogden. I am from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I must speak with Morfin Gaunt. Might I come in to discuss this matter?”

The man sneered as his eyes roamed over Ogden. After a few long minutes, he huffed and stepped to the side, pushing Morfin behind him. “S’pose. Get in.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ogden said and stepped, somewhat uncomfortably, past the man and into the dark house. Harry and Dumbledore followed.

“What exactly is this about?” the man asked snappishly.

“And you are, sir?” Ogden asked.

“Marvolo Gaunt,” the man said and Harry’s eyes widened. “Morfin’s my son. Now, what do you want?”

“Shall we sit so we might be more comfortable?” Ogden suggested, turning to the sitting area. “Oh, hello, my dear.”

Harry looked around Ogden to see who he was talking to. He was shocked to see that what he thought was just a huge pile of dirty rags was actually a young girl. She was dressed in a dirty, torn grey dress, her hair was a disaster, and her face was sallow and covered in grime.

The girl glanced at Ogden, but didn’t speak and quickly curled back up in her corner, letting her hair cover her face.

Ogden was clearly confused and concerned, but turned back to Marvolo and Morfin, the reason he was there. “Mr. Gaunt, are you aware of your son’s actions very early this morning?”

“Depends,” Marvolo grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Well, in the early hours of the morning, the Ministry received warning that Morfin performed magic in the presence of a Muggle and also performed magic on that same Muggle. We sent an owl earlier today about the incident and my visit,” Ogden explained.

“I got no use for owls,” Marvolo snapped. “Got no use for reading neither. Gaunt men don’t need reading.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, but that is no excuse to ignore a hearing summons from the Ministry of Magic,” Ogden said. He pulled out a roll of parchment and offered it to Marvolo. “Here is the official summons. Morfin must attend a hearing to answer for his serious breach of wizarding law.”

Harry used every ounce of effort to not cringe away from the rage that filled Marvolo’s face. The man stomped right up to Ogden and shoved his right hand in Ogden’s face. Harry managed to see the gold ring with an oddly shaped black stone on Marvolo’s index finger.

“Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here with your ‘summons’?” Marvolo spat. “Don’t you know what this is, what it means?” He shook the ring in Ogden’s face.

“No, I—” Ogden was cut off as Marvolo stormed past him and to the girl still huddled on the floor. Ogden’s eyes widened as Marvolo yanked violently on a silver chain around the girl’s neck, dragging her, gasping, to her feet. She stumbled a few times, but Marvolo either didn’t notice or care as he pulled the chain to Ogden’s face, a pendant of some kind dangling from it. The girl gasped for air and was hiccupping on sobs.

“Mr. Gaunt, please!” Ogden said in shock at the violence being perpetrated against the girl. “Your daughter!”

“Look at this!” Marvolo growled, yanking the necklace again to shake the pendant. “Do you know what this is?”

“Mr. Gaunt!”

Harry moved to see the pendant. It was an almost octagonal shape. It was made of silver with intricate etchings around the front edges. The front had a light, amber-coloured glass over a detailed snake etching.

“We are the last living descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and you will not command us like common dogs,” Marvolo snapped, throwing his daughter to the side where she fell to the floor. Still gasping and whimpering, she scurried back to her corner, curling into an even tighter ball than any Harry thought he had managed.

“Mr. Gaunt, regardless of your ancestry, you must still abide by wizard law. Your son—”

“Yeah, Morfin cursed that Muggle trash, so what?” Marvolo sneered. “Muggles ain’t worth much more than target practice.”

“Did what I had to to take care of the bastard, considering Merope here’s pining for the Muggle,” Morfin said, grinning gleefully but evilly at his sister who looked up with abject fear.

“What was that, boy?” Marvolo growled at Morfin.

“Merope’s in love with the Muggle boy,” Morfin repeated.

Marvolo swung around on Merope, his face once again filled with unbridled rage. Harry couldn’t help his small flinch and hoped Dumbledore didn’t notice.

“No daughter of mine is going to whore herself for no dirty Muggle!” Marvolo roared. He charged at Merope, his hands wrapping around her frail neck. He lifted her into the air and pinned her to the wall. Merope was clawing at her father’s hands, gasping and gurgling.

“Mr. Gaunt!” Ogden shouted and quickly waved his wand. Marvolo was flung backwards, skidding across the floor away from Merope. She had dropped to the floor herself, heaving and sobbing even louder.

Morfin cried out in anger, and brandished his knife and wand again. He ran at Ogden who dashed from the house.

As he disappeared, the memory faded away and Harry felt himself rising up out of the Pensieve. He blinked to adjust to the candlelight after the darkness of the shack. He looked at Dumbledore as the headmaster returned the memory to its vial and to the cabinet. He watched Dumbledore retake his seat behind his desk and Harry did as well upon Dumbledore’s gesture.

They sat in silence for a time, Harry fighting to understand all he had just witnessed and Dumbledore obviously waiting for him to be ready.

“So, what happened after that?” Harry finally asked.

“Bob Ogden returned with reinforcements, and both Marvolo and Morfin were arrested. Marvolo was in Azkaban for six months for harming his daughter and ignoring a Ministry summons. Morfin was sentenced to three years for his attack on the Muggle boy and on Ogden,” Dumbledore explained.

“So, Marvolo?” Harry said. “He was…”

Dumbledore nodded. “Voldemort’s maternal grandfather.”

“The girl, Merope, was his mother?”

Dumbledore nodded again.

Harry briefly flashed back to second year with the memory of sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets.

“If you thought I would keep my filthy Muggle father’s name…”

“The boy Morfin jinxed was Voldemort’s father?” Harry said, shocked. “Voldemort’s father was a Muggle?” It wasn’t until now that he understood the importance of what Voldemort had said back then about having a Muggle father.

“Indeed, he was,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Merope was in love with Tom Riddle for quite some time. Quite the shameful thing for Marvolo, of course.”

“So, it’s true. They, and Voldemort, really are descendants of Slytherin?”

“Indeed. The locket you saw Merope wearing was a prized possession of Slytherin himself, passed down through the generations.”

“So, what happened with Merope and Tom?” Harry asked.

“Merope was desperate for love after her life of neglect and abuse,” Dumbledore said and Harry steadfastly ignored the pang in his heart for his similarity to Merope. “She attempted to approach Tom, but he rejected her. Unwilling to accept his rejection and convinced he could one day love her, she gave him a love potion.”

“What?” Harry said in disbelief.

“She kept him under the potion for some time and they eventually married. However, there are records of Tom returning to the village of Little Hangleton only a few months after they married. Merope also returned home briefly. By this time, Marvolo had returned from Azkaban. Upon her return, Marvolo refused to acknowledge his daughter, particularly when he realized Merope was pregnant with Tom’s child.”

Harry blew out a breath, sitting back heavily. “What happened between them? Where did Merope go? What happened to her and Voldemort once he was born?” His mind was spinning out of control.

“Stories for another night,” Dumbledore said and Harry frowned, disappointed. “Tonight was to introduce you to Voldemort’s family, his beginning before he was ever thought of.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Can I tell Ron and Hermione about this?”

“You may,” Dumbledore agreed. “Now, off to bed, my boy.”

Harry stood and walked to the door. “Good night, Professor.”