Hodge and Dumbledore were indeed together. The two of them were walking along a country lane, flanked on both sides by tall, dense bushes.
Sunlight filtered through, and the weather was clear and bright.
"The place we're heading to is the Gaunt residence."
"Gaunt?"
"The Gaunt family are descendants of Salazar Slytherin."
"So... Voldemort?"
"Exactly. Voldemort's mother, Merope, was a Gaunt. It's a family with a very long history—centuries of inbreeding have made its members increasingly hot-tempered and volatile. Merope was the exception, perhaps because she was the most bullied in the family... or perhaps because she fell in love with a Muggle..." Dumbledore paused. "A handsome Muggle, in fact—Voldemort's father."
Hodge knew the story, but as they turned onto a side path and descended steeply down the hillside, a valley opening up before them, he felt himself drawing closer to the site where it all happened. He found himself pulled into Dumbledore's tale.
"Despite his eccentric temper, his volatility, and his cruelty toward his own family, Merope's father, Marvolo, still held a shred of respect for the law. He didn't kill that Muggle himself. Instead, he had his son—Morfin Gaunt—curse the Muggle with hives. In his eyes, that counted as mercy. But the Ministry didn't see it that way. Marvolo and his son Morfin clashed with Ministry officials, resisted arrest—as you can imagine—and they were hauled away. Marvolo got six months in Azkaban; Morfin got three years. All this I know from the Auror who handled it at the time: Bob Ogden, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"So... that just left Merope alone?"
"You've grasped the key point. Merope had endured years of brutal oppression from her father and brother. Then suddenly, one day, she was free—utterly unrestrained, able to do whatever she wanted. When Marvolo returned six months later, all he found was a farewell letter. By then, the whole village was buzzing with the scandal of the squire's son eloping with the tramp's daughter. Marvolo died not long after. A year later, the squire's son came back alone. When questioned, he insisted he'd been bewitched and deceived. I suspect he had been."
"But the magic wore off—maybe from prolonged exposure building up resistance, or... Merope lifted it herself?"
"I personally favor the latter. Merope was only eighteen then. She believed in love, and she loved Riddle deeply. She probably thought that once they had a child, the child's father would naturally come to love her." Dumbledore sighed. "But she didn't understand that love obtained through magic would vanish just as surely when the magic faded. And so, Riddle left her without a second thought. She was left penniless and pregnant, abandoned. In desperation, she sold the family heirloom—a locket that had belonged to Slytherin—for a pittance. Even so, she didn't survive the winter. On New Year's Eve, she gave birth to a son and then passed away."
Dumbledore fell silent. The two of them walked through the village for a stretch before turning onto another fork in the road.
The fork was narrow and secluded, utterly unremarkable. It was just a dirt track, long neglected and unrepaired, full of potholes and scattered with loose stones. Hodge's gaze followed the winding path until it vanished into a dark, dense forest at the end.
"Voldemort's abroad?" Hodge asked, crunching over the gravel as he changed the subject.
"He went there himself to persuade the giants," Dumbledore said quietly. "He's clearly in a hurry, so I sent Hagrid back. According to my intelligence, he'll be abroad for a while longer, recruiting some dark wizards."
Voldemort was short on manpower.
Sure, he had a few escapees from Azkaban, but most of the others—those Death Eaters from over a decade ago who'd wriggled out of punishment through clever arguments—had been locked up by Barty Crouch Sr. They weren't in Azkaban; they were in the Ministry. On paper, these were just "high-suspicion individuals who'd voluntarily come in for questioning," allowed to go home in batches every few days...
Both sides knew the score. The Ministry knew Voldemort was back, so they cracked down on these potential turncoats to keep them from joining him. And those turncoats? They were probably happy to sit it out and see which way the wind blew. If Voldemort fell quickly, they could leverage their influence to get the Ministry to release them.
Hodge thought it over. All just maneuvers.
"So, per the plan, someone has to take on the most dangerous job—Professor Snape..."
Someone had to report back to Voldemort about Dumbledore's Horcrux investigation.
Dumbledore smiled, but the expression faded quickly.
"The issue's resolved," he said gravely. "Just a few days ago, Amelia Bones went to Crouch's office to discuss business and stumbled upon the fact that his son, little Barty Crouch, is still alive. Young Crouch is a devoted Death Eater. After Voldemort vanished, it was he and the Lestranges who broke into the Longbottoms' home and tortured them with the Cruciatus Curse."
Dumbledore briefly explained how old Crouch had pulled off the switch, smuggling his son out of Azkaban in a body-bind with his wife's help, and how he'd kept him under the Imperius Curse for over a decade, never letting him set foot outside the house. In short, Mr. Crouch was an upright man who'd devoted most of his life to fighting evil—but he'd made two grave mistakes. First, neglecting his son's upbringing, allowing young Crouch to join Voldemort right under his nose and leak countless secrets during the war. Second, giving in to his dying wife's pleas and springing his son from prison.
Now, it was coming in handy. As for young Barty Crouch—a genuine Death Eater—dead or alive, it didn't matter.
After all, Hodge had orchestrated this behind the scenes.
He knew plenty of people under Amelia Bones: Moody, Tonks, Kingsley. He could influence Arthur Weasley through Ron and Bill. And he was classmates with Amelia's niece, Susan Bones... There were ways to ensure Madam Bones showed up at Crouch's house.
With Bones's sharp instincts, the moment she set foot there, she'd spot young Crouch herself!
If anyone gathered up all the letters Hodge had sent out lately, they'd see a vast network centered on Amelia Bones. But Hodge had always kept friendly ties with plenty of wizards, so it didn't raise eyebrows.
"We're here," Dumbledore said.
In a tangle of stunted trees, a moss-covered house came into view, half-hidden, half-revealed.