A Gaunt Tale

"Sweet Jesus!" Katalina attempted to grip onto her bed on the racing bus to stay put, but the beds were moving, too. The conductor laughed at her panic, and she shot him a dirty look. "Bet you'd do the same thing if you'd never been on this damn thing before!"

"I didn't!" he protested. "I was three at the time, and I thought it was rather entertaining.

"Who are you, anyway?" he asked. "You don't go to Hogwarts, do you?"

"I did, for about a week in my first year."

He looked at her oddly for a moment, then he seemed to comprehend. "Oh, aren't you're that Gaunt girl that got sorted into Gryffindor?"

"That would be me. Katalina Gaunt," she said. She looked at the window at the front of the bus, decided that looking at that was only going to make her feel nauseous, and chose to stare at her luggage instead. Her memory suddenly started functioning properly. "You're... Potter, right?"

"James Potter," he said, looking at the window. "We in Hogsmeade now, Ernie?"

"Ar," replied the old man behind the wheel. "We're 'bout to Three Broomsticks, you'll want to wake up Madam Harte."

"Right..."

James stood up reluctantly and almost fell over due to the speed of the bus - now it was Katalina's turn to laugh. He made his way carefully to the back of the bus. It stopped when Ernie slammed on the brakes (causing everything on the bus to come forward about a foot). James came back to the front with an elderly woman who looked rather sick from the ride and showed her off the bus, then he sat back down on the bed behind the driver's seat.

"London now," he said to the driver, "Leaky Cauldron."

"What possessed you to want to get a job doing this?" Katalina asked as the bus jumped into motion again. "Are you mad or something?"

"No," he said. "My mum and dad seemed to think I needed to learn to be more responsible after they got a letter from Hogwarts telling them me and my friend made some fake IDs to get firewhiskey at a pub in Hogsmeade. My dad's friends with Ernie here, so he got me a job so I could learn responsibility. I'm not even getting paid for it."

Katalina laughed. "Maybe you'll think twice before coming back from Hogsmeade drunk again, then?"

"Possibly."

She rolled her eyes at this, hoping they were near the Leaky Cauldron. She wasn't sure she could take much more of riding three hundred miles per hour on a bus with a driver that seemed to have taken lessons from a three year old on a tricycle. She looked at the window, but the blurs of colors flashing by them still weren't telling her much of anything.

"We should be there in about another minute, I think," said James, looking out the window behind him - how could he even tell? "That blur looked familiar," he explained at seeing her raise her eyebrows.

"Oh, well that's reassuring..." she said sarcastically. "Familiar blurs..."

"Hey, it's worked for me for the past... three months, has it been? Hey, we in London yet, Ernie?"

"Ar, 'bout a mile to the Leaky Cauldron."

"I suppose we're travelling about a mile a second at this point..." Katalina grumbled. She became aware of the truth in this remark when the bus came to a screeching halt only a moment later. She looked out the window and saw the Leaky Cauldron. "Well what d'you know. I didn't die."

"'Course not," James said matter-of-factly. "This is actually a more safe form of travel than apparition, you know. There's more of a chance of losing limbs when you apparate than there is of riding on this bus."

"I think I'll stick to Floo Powder and Portkeys, thanks..." she said, piling bags on top of her trunk. "Makes you dizzier, but at least you can't get killed from it..."

"Not true," James said. "If you let go of a Portkey in the wrong place, you could end up falling in the ocean or something, you know? And also, if you get out at the wrong grate with Floo Powder, then the people near that grate might kill you if they think you're threatening them. There's danger in all forms of travel. You really going to try to carry all of that?" he added, looking at the pile of bags on top of her trunk.

"What other choice 'ave I got?" she said.

He sighed. "Well, fine," he said, standing up, "no need trying to make me feel guilty."

"What? Think I can't carry it myself?" she said with raised eyebrows.

"I think it'd take a giant two hands to carry it," he said. He picked up most of the bags, managing to sling a few over each of his shoulders. She watched him stumble off of the bus, shrugged, and followed with her trunk and the last of the bags. He had stopped just outside the bus and dropped half of the bags.

"What have you got in these bloody things?" he said. "Bricks?"

"Close," she said. "Books. In four out of the five."

"What about the fifth one?"

"Clothes, and I'm carrying that one."

He glared at her as she carried her trunk and her bag past him, into the Leaky Cauldron, and managed to pick up the bags of books to carry them in as well. He dropped them behind her at the bar, where she was waiting for Tom (the balding and nearly toothless bartender of the Leaky Cauldron) to come over so she could buy a room.

"I'm not carrying those anywhere else," he said, stopping at the bar for a moment to catch his breath. "I'd rather take five Bludgers to my head than have to carry all that mess again."

"I didn't tell you to," Katalina said, looking at him. "I mean, thanks and all, but it wasn't entirely necessary."

He started to say something else as he turned to go, but he froze completely with his mouth hanging open slightly from where he had opened it to speak. Katalina looked at him oddly before also turning around and seeing exactly why he had frozen. She blinked a few times, her eyes wide, before looking down at the small house-elf. She looked back up at the man standing in front of it. She swallowed and attempted to keep her composure.

"Oh, hello, Dad," she said calmly, although a voice in her head was screaming in absolute horror at the sight of him - all he needed were red eyes and horns and he would be the spitting image of Satan himself. "What brings you to London so early in the morning?"

"Lindy is sorry, Mistress!" squeaked the house-elf at her father's feet as she hung her head, her ears drooping. "Master threatened Lindy if she didn't tell him where his daughter had gone!"

"Quiet." Katalina recognized her father's voice as speaking in Parseltongue, which Lindy had grown to understand after years of hearing it used around the house she worked in. The house-elf cringed slightly. Katalina wasn't going to bother asking him to stop speaking in Parseltongue - he often did so automatically when he was particularly angry. "I'll deal with you as soon as we get back."

"I don't know what we you're talking about," Katalina said, reaching into her pocket as she spoke, "but I'm not going anywhere. I'm checking into a room here and then going to Hogwarts."

"Oh, you will be coming home -" he began, but he stopped when he found a wand pointed at him.

"I'm not going home," she said loudly. "Leave me be! I'm dead tired of what you call 'teaching.' I don't want to learn about Dark Arts or why what Voldemort is doing is right or how to poison people working at the Ministry. I don't want to learn what you think I need to know, I want to learn what I do need to know so I can become an Auror one day and hunt you down myself!"

She detected something in his eyes for a moment. It didn't look like anger, but it didn't look hurt. She wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't about to let her find out, either, for his eyes became instantly icy yet again as he looked down at Katalina.

"Fine," he said coolly. "If that's what you want, then I won't bother trying to stop you from leaving. I'll have you know, however, that I'm not going to let you catch me. The Ministry trusts me perfectly well, I do work there, after all. The minister even looks at me as a friend. I somehow doubt he would believe a stupid teenage girl telling him that I'm working for the enemy. I'll let you think on that while you're at your bloody school training to be an auror, alright?" He turned, but stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "By the way, I suggest you make friends quickly, as you're not going to be coming home again."

"Good!" Katalina shot at him as he disapparated, taking the whimpering house-elf with him. She turned back around and heard a low whistle next to her.

"So that's Timothy Gaunt?" James said. "Bloody hell, he looks like the devil or something. Glad I don't have to live with him."

"Neither do I, now," Katalina said as Tom moved away from some other customers over to her end of the bar. "I might just stay here during my summers. Might be able to get a better deal if I stay all summer, it does have some nice rooms."

--

Professor Dumbledore,

Hello. This is Katalina Gaunt. I think you probably remember about four years ago, when I was sorted into a Hogwarts house like most other eleven year old witches and wizards and my father came to pull me out because he didn't like the idea of me being in Gryffindor - don't let him lie to you, either, that was why. You're definitely intelligent, so I'm sure you knew. I haven't worked out why you let him yet, but that isn't as important right now.

I was hoping you would allow me to attend Hogwarts for my last three years? My father's already caught me. He basically told me if I go, I'm not allowed back in his home ever again, but that's fine by me, I'm positive I'll be able to find somewhere to stay. I am at the Leaky Cauldron at this moment and will be for the next few days. If I'm allowed to attend, please send me a letter including what I need for my fifth year.

Also, if it's all fine and well, I would like to take Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies as my extra electives - since I'm past my third year, it's my choice, isn't it? That's what it said in Hogwarts, a History, so I assume it's right. Please let me know soon, since there's only a few days until the Hogwarts Express leaves.

Oh! Also, this is very important. I have a house-elf that my mother left me, Lindy, who wants to know if she can work at Hogwarts because she likes my dad about as much as I do and because she was instructed by my mother to keep an eye on me or something along those lines, apparently. Let me know if that's alright so I can tell her, please?

Please get back to me soon,

Katalina Gaunt

Katalina bit her thumbnail as she read over her letter to the headmaster of Hogwarts, hoping there would be enough time for her to shop for school supplies. Including today, she had four days. One day would probably be enough to shop for supplies and get packed. Her hopes were high that she would be able to attend Hogwarts this year.

She rolled up the letter and tied it before handing it to an eagle owl she had borrowed from Tom that was perched on top of the dresser in the room. It bit her finger before taking the letter in its talons, for which she glared at it. "Was that really necessary?" she said. It hooted in response. "Yeah, apology accepted. Mind taking that to Dumbledore for me?"

It hooted again before flapping its wings a couple of times (successfully knocking her bottle of ink over in the process and spilling it on her parchment) and flew out the open window into the early morning sunlight. She decided that regardless of whether of not she was going to Hogwarts, she would probably need to head out and buy some new ink and a couple spare rolls of parchment. She didn't much like that owl and couldn't help but wonder if it would drop her letter on the ground out of spite.

She quickly brushed her pessimism from her mind and told herself that mean, spiteful, hateful, evil owl would deliver her letter to Hogwarts without losing it. She lay back on the bed in the hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. It was only eight o' clock in the morning, too early to go out - she decided she would wait a couple more hours, since she had been up all night.

When she closed her eyes to attempt a couple hours of sleep, she saw a pair of eyes glaring back at her projected onto the backs of her eyelids. She opened her eyes immediately. That must have been her mind's way of reminding her of why she hadn't gotten any sleep. After hours of thinking about it, she had finally figured out what she had seen in her father's eyes when he had apparated silently behind her the night before - fear.

The one thing she couldn't figure out was why. He had never been afraid of her in the past, and her threats had been idle ones. He knew perfectly well that she wanted to work in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic when she finished her schooling, not become a chaser of users of the Dark Arts. All she knew about the Department of Mysteries was that she needed a good knowledge of Divination and the theory behind it to work there. She wasn't about to become an Auror and lose half of her limbs in the process, especially not with someone like Voldemort around. She wanted him gone as badly as anyone else, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to get rid of him.

Of course, the Minister of Magic, Edolphus Hemwick, was nothing more than an idiot in a position of power. He was still denying the existence of Voldemort to the public, and he would probably continue to do so either until Voldemort was gone or until he and others within the ministry saw Voldemort for themselves. Katalina had the unfortunate pleasure of having had seen Voldemort, as her father had offered their house up as headquarters for the "Death Eaters," Voldemort's most loyal followers, a few years back before Voldemort found a better and less detectable command center to work from.

Maybe Voldemort was the reason her father was afraid? He might have been afraid of being alone in that house. Had he wronged his lord in some way that would put his life at danger if he was alone? No, that seemed utterly ridiculous. The day that her father offended his lord would be the day the earth and the sun collided, and the Muggles that were keeping a close eye on such things in their solar system had yet to detect any signs of this happening in the near future. Something about Katalina leaving did scare him, however, and not knowing what it was would only bother her.

As an idea dawned in her mind, she sat up in her bed. That was all it was - he was trying to keep her off the focus of her goal of getting to Hogwarts! That had to be it - he had intentionally let her see an small flash of fear in his eyes to make her wonder why and to make her want to come back home to find out so he could continue the maddening torture that he considered to be homeschooling. Well, she wasn't going to let it worked. She crossed her arms and fell back onto her bed with an indignant "Hmph!", deciding that her theory could have been nothing short of accurate and that her father was mad if he thought his stupid plan was going to work.

--

Timothy Gaunt sat at the table in his kitchen, staring blankly at the door on the other side of the room. His thoughts were miles away from that door, however; they were off in the Malfoy manner, as headquarters, where the Dark Lord resided. He wondered how long it would be before the Dark Lord received word of this error of his.

He strummed his fingers on the table, his eyes travelling down to his father's ring. For whatever reason, Voldemort had had his eye on the jewel for years now, ever since he had begun going by "Voldemort" rather than his "Muggle name," as he had so often referred to it. As Tom Riddle he had paid it little attention, but he seemed now to have developed a strange fascination with it. Anything that Tom Riddle - or Voldemort - ever found fascinating was generally something that no one wanted him to get his hands on.

Timothy was sure at this point he would be killed. In fact, there was no doubt of it in his mind. It would probably be Voldemort himself to do it - his mistake had been much too big this time. Of all Voldemort's followers, Timothy had made the fewest mistakes. For this reason, he was Voldemort's right-hand man. It had nothing to do with their friendship in school or his knowledge of Voldemort's past. After all, Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead. He had died the moment the first Horcrux had been made in the eyes of Timothy Gaunt, and had been taken over by his own alter ego - Lord Voldemort. As the first of the Death Eaters, Timothy had instantly become the number one. As he also became the most reliable, this status as number one was a sealed deal.

After a prophecy made by his own wife as well as an error in judgment on her part, Timothy Gaunt had alone been entrusted by Voldemort with one job. He had failed to accomplish this job. For this reason, he would be dead in a matter of weeks, just like his wife. To the Dark Lord, friendship was weakness. Timothy Gaunt was only a follower - a pawn, if you will - and not a friend, so there was no avoiding it.

All that was left, Timothy supposed as he looked down at a bare sheet of parchment in front of him and the bottle of ink next to it, was to keep Voldemort away from his father's ring. And so, he picked up the quill from the bottle of ink and began writing:

I, Timothy Morfin Gaunt, leave to my son, Alfred Gaunt...

"Father?"

Scowling, Timothy crumpled the parchment into a ball before his son could read it.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any idea where that wretched house-elf is?"

"Outside, last I said," said Timothy, taking to staring aimlessly across the kitchen again. "Crushing her ears under a rock for letting your sister escape or letting me find out about it, one or the other."

"She's gone? Where to?"

"Hogwarts."

"Oh, well that's wonderful.... Aren't you going to get her out again?"

"I'm done bothering with her. I've informed her she will need to find a new home as well. You'll have no reason to worry about it."

"Good," he sneered. "I was beginning to get tired of having to live with traitorous filth. I'll be looking for that elf - I believe she's started stealing my money...."

Timothy heard the kitchen door close a moment later and decided this would have to wait until his son was off to school. The distraction had definitely done good; it had given Timothy a moment to notice the silver chain hanging around his neck. At this, he had realized there was more than one family heirloom he would need to keep out of Voldemort's grasp.