The Dream
The shuffling of the man walking down the steps was the only thing that you could hear. His walking stick hit the ground, the old, moth-eaten carpet muffling the clunk it made on the stairs. The old man grunted in pain as he reached the landing. His leg was hurting him and so he was making himself a hot water bottle and then going back to bed. Oh, and by the way, this man's name was Frank Bryce.
Frank Bryce was the gardener at the Riddle House. He kept the garden well tended, but he hardly ever went into the huge mansion on the Riddle grounds. People said the place was haunted, but even the people who said it only said it because gossip stories were scarce and they wanted something scary to talk about. He had been accused of murdering the Riddles when they had died, but it wasn't him. Nobody knew who it was, least of all Frank, although he had told the police he had seen a boy who looked remarkably like the Riddle's son Tom. So when he looked up and saw a fire going through one of the windows, he thought that some person was playing a dangerous prank because they believed him to be a murderer.
"Ruddy kids, I'm just a gardener" muttered Frank angrily as he stomped out of the kitchen to go see what was happening.
The only light in the garden was the amber bright light from Frank's torch. The garden looked even more huge than normal at night. Because there was no other sound, Frank's walking stick made a clunk that was hugely magnified as he walked up the concrete steps to the large door. The keys jangled as Frank unlocked the door. He stepped into the grand hallway cautiously, and began the descent up the huge grand staircase where he had seen the fire. He could smell the smoke, he thought, but that might just be his imagination. He hopped the fire was small and the kids were still in the room. He wanted to be able to catch them at it.
But however much he wanted to barge in what the children were doing, he paused outside the door and peeked around the magnificent door and saw, much to his astonishment, that the fire had been lit in the grate. He paused to listen to the voices he could hear.
"Would you like some m-m-more m-master?" came a stuttering voice.
"I would not like any more" came a high-pitched, reedy voice that made the hairs on Frank's neck stand up and sent a shiver down his spine. "However, Wormtail, I need some more. Now." This was followed by some strange gurgling noises and a whimper from the man Wormtail.
"Now move me closer to the fire, Wormtail" commanded came the reedy voice. This command was followed by another whimper. "Hurry up Wormtail. I wish to discuss matters with you in comfort." There was another whimper and Frank told himself to hurry up and walk in and demand to know what these people were doing in this house. But there was a part of him that was paralysed with fear, although he did not know why. There was also a part of him that wanted to know what these 'matters' one of the men spoke of.
"My new Hogwarts spy is ready to go Wormtail, but we need to discuss ways to get the Dark Mark in the sky at the Quiditch World Cup." Frank leaned closer to the door, thinking he might have misheard something. The word Quiditch was not a word at all.
"My Lord, is that really necessary?" squeaked Wormtail. "I'm sure the Death Eaters will come when they feel the mark burn later on. Do you need to give them a clue they will think is false until June?"
"Of course it is necessary, Wormtail!" snapped the high voice. "They will be wondering. Some may even try to find me again. Now. Is everything ready for my spy to go to Hogwarts? Will anyone not be fooled?"
"If he has conducted the Polyjuice Potion, then yes" said Wormtail. "If he hasn't, it's not my fault." Frank was now completely leaning against the door. He had heard some words he knew were not really proper words. He was gathering his courage to walk in the door, when he heard something that made him freeze again.
"My Lord, how will we murder Harry Potter? Is that all sorted?" Frank froze. This man was planning on murdering someone.
"Yes. I am pretty sure on how this is going to work" said the reedy voice. "And Wormtail, you will play a very important part in his death. You will need to follow my instructions very carefully."
"A-an important part, my Lord?" quivered Wormtail. "What will that be?"
"I will tell you later" said the cold voice again. "But you will be doing something most of my Death Eaters would do anything to be allowed to do. I trust you will be able to carry it out perfectly, Wormtail. You must follow my every instructions very carefully." Frank didn't hear Wormtail's reply. He was staring in horror at the gigantic black snake that was slithering along the hall. The snake slithered into the room that Frank was eavesdropping on. There was no cry of alarm or fear however. Instead, there were some strangled hissing sounds, a sound that Frank had never heard in his life.
Then Frank realised. This man could talk to snakes. Horrified, he tried to turn and get away from here. But then the man said something.
"Nagini says the gardener is standing outside this door, Wormtail" he said softly. "Open the door and invite him in."
A small, timid-looking man opened the man.
"Where are your manners, Wormtail?" asked the cold voice. "I told you to invite him in." The man stepped away from the door and beckoned with his middle finger (his index was missing) for Frank to follow him.
"So you have been listening to me, Bryce?" asked the door, and Frank's head immediately snapped around to see the source of the sound. It came from an armchair with is back to him.
"Yes" said Frank, but he was not really afraid. "And I know you're planning to kill someone. A person named Harry Potter."
"Correct" said the voice softly. "Clearly you know too much. Wormtail! Turn my chair around!" The little man whimpered in fear again. "You heard me" said the voice again and Wormtail hurried forward. As he was turning his master's chair, there was a cry from the man.
"Avada Kedavra!" And Frank Bryce saw a flash of green light and then nothing else.