chapter 70
The healer looked slightly stunned by this name "You do realise that the man is not exactly all there anymore, don't you? He has been here for nearly forty years now, slowly slipping down the slope towards oblivion?"
"We are aware of his… condition," said Croaker. "However, this man is our main lead. We simply have to question him."
"We also have the backing of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in this matter," added Cyrus "Madam Bones is most interested in learning exactly what it is that this patient knows about our target."
Amadeus rubbed a hand over his face wearily before giving a nod "Alight. Alright, I'll allow it. I can't guarantee that you'll get anything out of him, mind you. He's rarely lucid. Most of the time he just stares blankly at the pot plant in the corner of the ward and when he does speak it is usually nothing more than inane babble."
"Nevertheless…" said Croaker.
Amadeus nodded his head and stood up "Very well. I will take you to him."
They left the office and the Healer led the way up several flights of stairs until they reached the geriatric ward.
Beyond the doors they found bed after bed containing elderly wizards and witches who were no longer able to take care of themselves.
They weren't old; they were ancient, even by wizarding standards. Every single one of them was bed ridden, unable to move, far less walk. Most were bordering on being comatose, others needed special spells on them to keep their bodies breathing.
Technically speaking, most of these patients were not ill. They were simply being kept alive long after they should have died of old age. Mostly this was done by rich families who were simply refusing to accept the fact that their older relatives' time had come.
Others, though, were simply holding on, almost as if they themselves were determined to not die. Caractacus Burke was this kind.
The Chief Healer led them to him bed, which was located right at the opposite end of the ward and then left them to it.
Cyrus looked at the man in the bed and had to admit that it did appear as though answers would not be easy to get out of this man. There had been no sign that the man had noticed them arriving. His blank eyes just stared right past them as if they were not there at all.
Once the Chief Healer had left the ward, Croaker began erecting a series of protective spells that were designed to prevent them from being either overheard or interrupted.
Cyrus took the time to observe the man in the bed. He was old, frail with liver spots marking his skin, particularly on his hands, and he was nearly completely bald but for a few long, white wisps of hair that stuck out at odd angles. It was clear that he had been tall in his younger years but had shrunk with age.
Croaker finished ensuring their privacy and pulled a stoppered ampoule out of his pocket.
"Are you certain that veritaserum will be of any help here?" asked Cyrus.
"He's senile, not brain damaged." replied Croaker as he pulled out the stopper from the top of the ampoule "He'll answer just as clearly as anyone else. Hold his head back please."
Cyrus moved around to the side of the bed and tilted Burke's head back slightly. The man did not offer any resistance.
Croaker opened Burke's mouth and allowed three drops of the truth serum to land on the man's tongue.
The effect as almost instantaneous. Where most people under the potion appeared to be less able to concentrate, with Burke it was the opposite. Immediately his eyes became focused and he almost seemed to come alive.
He blinked a few times as though attempting to clear dust from them before focusing his gaze upon the two men who were now standing at the foot of his bed.
He opened his old, toothless mouth and, in a voice that sounded like it had not been used properly for more than two decades, asked "Who are you?"
Croaker began the introductions "My name is Saul Croaker, and I am an unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. This is my associate, Cyrus Greengrass, a specialist in dealing with dark artefacts."
Burke glowered at them.
"If it's at all possible, Mr Burke" began Cyrus "we would like to ask you a few questions about a former employee of yours. A young man by the name of Tom Riddle?"
For a moment the ancient wizard looked as though he wanted to object to being questioned, but at the mention of the name Tom Riddle, his face suddenly broke out into a wide, toothless smile.
"You want to take about him, do yeh?" he asked "I wondered how long it would take for someone to come asking."
He paused for a moment before speaking up again "I don't usually bother talking with people from the Ministry, but I think I can make an exception this time. What do you want to know?"
"Everything," replied Croaker "Anything that you can tell us."
Burke appeared to think this over for a few moments before giving a nod of his head and beginning his tale "I can't say much of his early life, mind. He kept all that stuff very quiet. What his truthful heritage was, I never found out. Sure as anything, mind, the name Riddle was not the name of an old pureblood family.
"The first I ever heard of Tom Riddle was when I received an owl one October evening, back in 1945. It was from some whelp fresh outta Hogwarts looking for employment. As I said, his family name certainly didn't ring any bells but for him to apply for a job at any location in Knockturn Alley I assumed that he was at least a third generation wizard.
"Well, I had a look over his results from school and I was most surprised. Outstanding grades in every subject he turned his hand to. He had written commendations from several members of staff, including Armando Dippet, the Headmaster at the time, and Horace Slughorn, the potions master and Head of Slytherin House. All full of praise for the lad they were, mind sharp as they come, skilled with a wand, very clever with potions, and all the rest.
"I was quite surprised actually. Normally the only applications we get are from third rate wizards who mucked about in class too much and have found themselves suddenly out in the real world. And usually the request comes from the parents. But here was a young lad looking for work off his own back who actually had good credentials. Too good, in fact, for someone who wanted to work in a shop. But in his letter he had mentioned getting all sorts of offers for positions within the Ministry but he had turned them all down, feeling that they would not be challenging enough for him.
"Well, that was all that I needed to know. Someone which scores and recommendations like that, but who didn't want to work for the Ministry told me that this lad wanted to become a businessman, but who was also quite happy to start from the bottom and work their way up, which was such a nice change from some of the other usual applicants who thought that they could start out in a managerial role despite having no experience.
"I knew there and then that an opportunity like this one would not raise its head again. I had no children myself, and no desire to leave the shop fully in the control of the inept son of my business partner Everard Borgin. Here was my chance to leave the business in safe, dependable hands."
Cyrus and Croaker exchanged a look, both knowing that Burke had not gotten his wish, and that the shop had been left in the sole ownership of Everard Borgin's son, Edward.
Burke continued "I agreed to meet with the boy a couple of days later in the Spiny Serpent pub. He was well mannered and respectful, smartly dressed and above all confident. I employed him on the spot.
"To begin with I had him selling items to potential customers. This proved to be a mistake on my part. He had a keen eye for what was valuable and refused to ever back down during the inevitable negotiation stage. He was much too forceful and put off a lot of potential customers. But, after sitting down with the boy and having a frank discussion with him, he got better and I soon realised that his talents truly lay in the art of buying.
"He had a silver tongue, that boy, and before long he was persuading one witch or wizard after another to part with their treasured items for sums of gold far less than their actual worth. Soon our storerooms were fit to burst. He was bringing in items faster than we could sell them, but sell we did, allowing our profits to go through the roof.
"Business was booming and yet, I had my concerns. There was no doubt in my mind that Tom Riddle was very good at his job, but I began to become concerned at just how good he was at it. Borgin saw no problem, but I did. Our location in Knockturn Alley made certain people suspicious of us. All that was needed for one of Tom's customers to cry foul and the Ministry would have come down upon us like a mother Dragon upon a wolf that had stolen one of her hatchlings.
"I began to keep a closer eye on him. I began making detailed notes on who he bought from and how much he paid. But in the end it wasn't that which worried me the most. He had obsession with treasures.
"An obsession with treasures?" asked Cyrus, looking for clarification.
Burke nodded and relied "I don't mean what most people would consider treasure. He did not covet gold or diamonds. He was more interested in… well, I suppose he was interested in heirlooms."
"Heirlooms?" asked Croaker.
"Yes. Take a necklace, for example. If you had a necklace that was worth, say five hundred galleons, or even a thousand, he would be relatively uninterested. He would attempt to purchase it as a part of his job of course, but that was as far as his interest went. However, if that necklace had some form of actual significance to a family, something that was known to have been handed down throughout the years and perhaps had the family shield engraved upon it, then he took interest.
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