Chapter 1085

"You are not welcome here."

A man suddenly appeared in front of them.

The man's hair was thick and tangled with a lot of mud, and it was hard to tell what color it was. He was also missing a few teeth. His small, black eyes stared forward. He should have looked funny, but he didn't look like that at this time; the effect was a little creepy, no wonder Ogden took a few steps back when he spoke.

"Uh... good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic--"

"You are not welcome here."

"Uh--I'm sorry--I don't understand you," Ogden said nervously.

Fanlin thought Ogden was really slow; in Fanlin's opinion, the stranger had already expressed his meaning very clearly, especially since he was waving a wand in one hand and holding a bloody knife in the other. Even if he couldn't understand his words, it didn't affect the man's expression.

"Parseltongue?" Fanlin hesitated. Although Harry had said such dream talk in his dreams more than once, Fanlin still didn't understand what it meant.

A bunch of meaningless syllables and inhalation sounds, but this also made Fanlin clear about what this memory was about.

Voldemort's family, the Gaunt family, the only pure-blood descendant of Slytherin, 100% pure blood...

"Yes, it's Parseltongue!" Dumbledore nodded and smiled. He could understand it, but he couldn't say it. Of course, he could still repeat some simple words, but it was just a form?

The ragged man was approaching Ogden, holding a knife in one hand and a wand in the other.

"Now, listen carefully--" Ogden said, but it was too late: with a bang, Ogden fell to the ground and grabbed his nose with his hand, and a disgusting yellow mucus spurted out from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" A loud voice said. An elderly man hurried out of the hut and slammed the door behind him. The dead snake on it was shaking pitifully.

This man was even shorter than the previous one, and his proportions were odd; his shoulders were broad, his arms were a little too long, he had bright brown eyes, his hair was coarse and short, and his face was full of wrinkles, which made him look like an energetic old monkey.

He walked over to the man with the knife, who was chuckling at Ogden lying on the ground.

"Ministry of Magic, huh?" The old man stared down at Ogden.

"Yes!" Ogden said angrily, covering his face. "I guess you are Mr. Gaunt?"

"He hit you in the face, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did!" Ogden said sharply.

"You should have let us know you were coming, didn't you?" Gaunt said arrogantly, "This is private property. You can't walk in without letting my son defend himself."

"Defend against who, man?" Ogden got up from the ground.

"Nosy people. Uninvited people. Muggles and filthy people." Ogden pointed his wand at his nose, which was still oozing a lot of yellow pus, and the pus disappeared immediately.

Mr. Gaunt said to Morfin from the corner of his mouth, "Go inside. No arguments."

This time, it was Dumbledore who translated for Vanlin. To be exact, there was no one present except Dumbledore who could translate the conversation between the Gaunt father and son for Vanlin and Rutherford.

"Very magical," Rutherford said with a sigh. He originally needed to guess, but in an instant, all the conversations were heard clearly.

Morfin seemed to be about to raise an objection, but his father glared at him threateningly, so he changed his mind and walked slowly back to the hut with a strange swaying step, slamming the door behind him, and the snake shook miserably again.

"I'm here to visit your son, Mr. Gaunt," Ogden wiped the last bit of pus off his coat. "That's Morfin, right?"

"Ah, that's Morfin," the old man said casually, "Are you pure-blooded?" He suddenly asked provocatively.

"That has nothing to do with today's conversation," Ogden said coldly.

Vanlin could not help but respect Ogden a little more. Obviously Gaunt didn't think so at all. He squinted at Ogden's face and muttered in a tone of obvious offense, "Now that I think about it, I seem to have seen a nose like yours in the village down the mountain."

"I have no doubt that if you let your son attack them," Ogden said, "perhaps we can go in and continue our discussion."

"In?" "Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I told you. I'm here for Morfin. We have sent an owl-"

"Owls are useless," Gaunt said. "I don't read letters."

"Then you can't complain about not receiving notice of someone's visit," Ogden said sharply, "I'm here because of a serious violation of wizard law that occurred earlier today-"

"Well, well, well!" Gaunt roared impatiently. "Come into this bloody house, you will suffer!"

The house seemed to have three small rooms. The main hall, which served as both a living room and a kitchen, had two doors. Morfin sat in a dirty armchair by the smoky stove, fiddling with a live adder with his gnarled fingers, and singing softly in Parseltongue: "Hiss, hiss, dear little snake, you sing on the ground, be nice to Morfin, or he'll nail you to the door."

In a corner next to the open window, there was a sound of shuffling feet, and Vanlin realized that there was someone else in the room, a girl in a tattered dress, the color of which was exactly the same as the dirty stone wall behind her.

She was standing next to a dirty black stove with a steaming pot on it. Compared with the shabby-looking pots and pans on the shelf above, she seemed insignificant.

Her head was slender and dry, and her face looked simple, pale and gloomy. Her eyes, like his brother's, stared straight ahead. She was a little cleaner than the two men, but Vanlin still thought she was the most miserable person he had ever seen.

Compared with Kreacher before, she was not much worse, and the numbness and confusion in her eyes made people clearly feel the emptiness from the girl.

To be honest, she was a very good-looking girl, and her temperament made people especially pity her, but she appeared in the room at this time, but she seemed out of place with the surroundings.

Fan Lin felt that he seemed to understand the girl's identity, and couldn't help but look more carefully, but to his great disappointment, he didn't find anything special. (To be continued)