Chapter 4
Voldemort apparated into the graveyard near the Riddle House around midday. It was a cool early August day and the breeze blowing through the gravestones was colder than she'd dressed for. A flick of her wand, though, was all it took to warm herself to the point where she could ignore the breeze.
She paced around the gravestones for a few moments, scanning the area for any sign of leftover magic, any trap, anything out of place. She didn't find anything. She wondered if Dumbledore had even ascertained the location from interrogating Potter. She couldn't fathom that he wouldn't have. But he hadn't left anything behind in case Voldemort returned. And that seemed like an incredibly short-sighted decision.
The Dark Lord closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, focusing on her magic, focusing on every single bit of her. She could sense various things when she did that, markers left for herself, she focused on the one closest to her and opened her eyes.
Nagini was only a few paces away. The snake slept, curled on a rock in the sun. She stared at the animal for a few moments before hissing.
"Wake up, Nagini," she said.
"Master?" The snake opened her eyes and lifted its head as it uncoiled its body.
"Did Dumbledore come after I left?" Voldemort asked as Nagini slithered over toward her feet.
"Yes master," the snake responded immediately. "He came back early in the morning after you were restored. He examined the graves and the cauldron you left before walking down toward the town."
"The town?" Voldemort asked. That move surprised her. She'd expected the manor to be his immediate destination, not the town.
"Yes," the snake responded. "I followed him to the edge of the graveyard, but once he made the road I think he noticed me so I slunk off into the grass away from him."
"He didn't investigate?" Voldemort asked.
"No master," Nagini responded. "I did my best to make sure I seemed like nothing more than an ordinary snake. And after he saw me I simply continued moving away from him. He kept moving toward the town. But I lost him in my haste of not being noticed."
"That's fine," Voldemort said. She paused for a moment, before turning toward the path that led out of the graveyard and down toward the town. "It's probably better if Dumbledore doesn't take an interest in you, anyway."
"Yes master," Nagini said, following after the Dark Lord as she made her way through the wrought iron gates and onto the stone road.
"Stay in the grass, Nagini, and scout ahead," Voldemort ordered as soon as she noticed the snake was following directly in her path. Nagaini slithered ahead of her into the long grass moving down toward the town.
There was silence then, she caught the end of the snake moving ahead of her through the grass and she slowed her step. She gazed over her shoulder, once, to scan the Riddle house. She hadn't been back inside since shortly after the authorities started investigating the death of the gardener.
After that incident she'd moved to Crouch's home instead. After Barty Junior became strong enough to control his father it had been a rather perfect hiding spot. And she'd been able to eavesdrop on all sorts of ministry officials as they gossiped about the news of the day. That was one area where she knew she'd need to focus her efforts. Hopefully Lucius was still as well informed as he'd been during the war.
Or, she smirked wryly to herself, hopefully large bribes still bought as much information as they had in the past. From what she'd managed to gather of Minister Fudge, the man was desperate to stay in power. And men were very easy to manipulate when it came to power. Almost as easy as when it came to sex.
"Old woman," the snake hissed. Voldemort drew her eyes from the Riddle house and back to the road just as an elderly woman turned the corner and started making her way to the graveyard. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers and moving very slowly.
"Good Afternoon!" The woman said cheerily, but weakly, as she approached the Dark Lord. Voldemort's hand slipped to her wand.
"Two youths, probably going the other way," Nagini hissed from nearby.
"Hello," Voldemort said carefully, eyeing the woman and her flowers.
"Coming back from seeing someone?" the woman asked. Voldemort pressed her lips together carefully and lied easily.
"No," she said. "I was just out for a walk and the path came this way." The woman was still far enough away, and walking too slowly for Voldemort to simply walk past her without ignoring her for far longer than appropriate. She remembered that these simple interactions were often less noticeable, or less remembered, than being intentionally rude.
"Oh are you new in town?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Voldemort lied with a smile. "I'm working nights over at the new hotel." She vaguely remembered the small building from when Wormtail had brought her and Nagini here, before they'd moved into the Riddle house. All she really remembered clearly was the young woman working the counter at night being annoyed with having to end her phone call about her philandering boss to get Wormtail a room.
Of course, she figured if she had to stop doing something to cater to Wormtail she'd probably be a bit annoyed too. So perhaps the underworked clerk had something right about the entire situation.
"Well welcome to Little Hangleton!" the woman said jovially. Voldemort smiles politely at her, but drew her hand out of her pocket to hold it normally at her side while she walked.
"Thank you," Voldemort said as she walked past the woman. She was almost clear of her when the woman spoke once more.
"Oh my," she said, staring at Voldemort with wide eyes.
"What is it?" Voldemort asked, feigning concern. But the woman just shook her head.
"Sorry it's nothing," she said. "Just mistook you for someone who used to live here years and years ago. Emily, I think her name was. But I'm grasping at straws. Lord, she would have been here back during the war. She'd be at least my age by now. Are you sure you're not a local?" And the woman laughed, playfully, waving a hand as if waving off such silly thoughts. Voldemort paled but just nodded a bit, forcing another polite smile onto her face, a shiver tracing down her spine. But she did her best to not let anything show. The old woman didn't seem to think twice about it.
"I was born and raised in London," Voldemort said, before spouting the simplest story she could concoct on short notice. "I came up her with a boy. He ran off to Dublin with another girl. Now, well, you know," she shrugged her shoulders. The woman nodded at her.
"Oh yes. Chasing love. That always seems like a great idea at the time. Until you get wherever you're going," the woman said. Voldemort nodded as if agreeing, but stepped backward away from the elderly woman.
"I should run," she said. "I'm too new to be late for my shift."
"Certainly, thanks for chatting dearie," the woman smiled at her and turned on her way as well.
Voldemort scampered down the path, cutting quickly through the buildings and out onto a deserted street. Moments later Nagini circled back to where she was walking.
She'd never thought she'd be recognized. What were the odds of that? Such a thought hadn't even seemed remotely possible. Yet the old woman, who must have had a particularly good memory, had recognized her. Sure, she'd brushed it off as her mind playing tricks on her, doubtless because this body wasn't nearly old enough to match her memories.
But that was a wrinkle she hadn't expected. In fact, she'd been worried about quite the opposite. She'd been worried her followers wouldn't recognize her. She'd expected that her followers wouldn't see the youthful woman as their Dark Lord. So far they'd catered to her whims, but she didn't know how long that would last if they decided that her appearance meant weakness.
Dumbledore would know what she looked like, true. And he would recognize her. But perhaps he'd glossed over that information with Potter while they discussed her routine. Snape told her that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had interrogated Potter the morning after her routine. They'd spoken in her office for the better part of a morning.
And while she could hope that Dumbledore had overlooked something as simple as her appearance, she highly doubted that would be the case. So she couldn't count on not being recognized, at least by people trained to look.
Either way she wasn't nearly confident enough to attempt a stroll down Diagon Alley without proper precautions. But, thankfully she didn't need to yet. So she'd worry about crossing that bridge if it became crucial.
"The path to the shack is clear," the snake reported. Voldemort turned to gaze at the snake, wondering just how it knew where she was going. She frowned a bit at the thought of the connection between the two of them. It must have picked the location out of her head without realizing it had done so.
"Thank you," she hissed back. "Keep watch while I go in."
"Yes master." It responded as they walked up to the shack. Years ago she'd enchanted the plot of land so that only a supremely powerful witch would be able to enter. She stepped over the first rung of enchantment with no difficulty. The ease at which she stepped over the first line of defenses assured her of the raw power her body still had, even if she hadn't practiced much magic with this new body yet.
But the first line of defenses was nothing really. Just a basic barrier against weak magical power and Muggles, it wouldn't be enough to hold many people are bay. But it had prevented Muggles from noticing the tract of land, and demolishing the cottage or developing anything in its place.
She stepped into the first room of the Gaunt's hovel and gazed around. She frowned. She disliked the hovel immensely. She wondered just what toll that tiny shack had taken on her mother. She didn't like thinking about her mother's family, so instead she focused on the building.
It was exactly how she'd left it years and years ago. None of the traps triggered when she entered. But they weren't supposed to attack her. She'd made sure of that before she'd left the last time.
It was one of the reasons she hadn't used this horcrux, despite its relative proximity to their former base of operations, to revive herself. It had been much easier to simply tell Crouch how to access the room with the one in Hogwarts rather than send Wormtail or Crouch into the death trap that was her ancestral home.
Little Hangleton had never been a particular target of the Luftwaffe during the blitz, Voldemort knew. But it had still seen its fair share of wartime destruction. Her traps were designed around that.
The traps were simply designed with that in mind. There wasn't much elegance or precision in them. She'd just marked random locations in each room with explosive charms. Any out of place touch would detonate them, triggering a chain reaction of every spell in the area. She'd designed it to look like someone had accidentally set off unexploded ordinance from the war.
It was by far the crudest trap she'd set up. But one that she figured anyone who was magically strong enough to enter
She'd left one path through the house. She remembered it well enough; it traveled through the entire hovel into a small room at the back. A room barely large enough to fit a bed and a dresser. A room that Lord Voldemort assumed had, at one point, been nothing more than close. A room that Lord Voldemort knew her mother had spent most of her life.
Voldemort did not like entering the small bedroom. It always made her reflect on her mother. And she preferred to think of the woman as little as humanly possible. The bedroom had no adornments. There was simply a bed tucked into the corner with one roughspun blanket across it. Magic had preserved the blanket and the bed, but there was no longer a pillow. There was nothing else in the room. The Dark Lord expected that her mother had taken all of her possessions when she left.
Voldemort walked over to the bed and knelt before it. She lifted the small loose floorboard up and set it on the safe spot on the edge of the bed. She looked down into the small cavern and stared at the miniscule grey felt box, another relic of her past she would rather keep as far out of her mind as possible.
She plucked it up and held it in her hand for a moment, pushing the thought of when she first held that box out of her mind. Although, for the briefest of moments, she could see the icy Thames and feel the snow falling around her, feel it sticking in her hair, once more.
She bit her lip and turned the box around in her hands. If any skin save hers touched it, the box was supposed to transform into a magical acid that would burn clear through skin and bone of whatever it touched. It would also likely seep into the trapped room and trigger the other explosive traps. The box did not look like it had been moved in a very long time. She paused for a moment before whispering.
"Open," she hissed in parseltongue. It may have been unimaginative, but she knew very few people who could also talk to snakes. The box obeyed her, opening slowly.
It was empty. She stared at the soft velvet setting inside and closed her eyes for a moment. So Dumbledore knew. The Diary must have given it away. Lucius's carelessness had cost her even more than she expected. And if not the diary, surely Harry had mentioned Wormtail putting a diadem into the potion she emerged from. She'd left far too many hints with far too many loose ends about her immortality. Dumbledore was clever enough to figure it out. That much she knew for sure. She slowly put the box back into its spot and ran through the remaining ones in her head.
Thanfully, the Gaunt ring wasn't what she knew Dumbledore would assume it was. He might; however, divine it's true purpose. Of course, if he were to do that it would likely drive him insane, as it nearly had her. But if he had a number in his head, the ring would serve his purpose and mean he miscalculated greatly.
She'd have to be careful with Nagini. Although she wondered if anyone would possibly suspect that she'd turned a live object into a Horcrux. Perhaps being too careful with the snake would draw unwanted attention to it. She shook her head slowly, that was an internal debate for another day.
The locket in the cave, that had to be safe. But she'd have to make sure to check. The only other living creature, excluding those boys that bullied her at the orphanage, who'd ever stepped foot inside that cave was the Black's elf. And she'd left it to die there. The necklace had to be perfectly safe.
The final two; however, were more concerning. She was torn between checking in on them or not. She'd check in on the locket But there was no conceivable way that Dumbledore would be able to find her last two. Still, she'd have to check on the area, at least. But being spotted remotely near there could be a problem.
But if Dumbledore suspected that she'd have to consolidate the objects. Perhaps it would be safest to keep them with her. Or in her dwelling. She disliked the thought of that though. If the Ministry or the Aurors did manage to find her, she'd be handing them powerful magical items that they would almost certainly be able to ascertain their purpose.
No, keeping them with her was likely not the best option. She'd have to think more calmly about that. She'd have to check up on the locket. She frowned as she stepped out into the sunset.
No, she couldn't linger here. And she couldn't let worries dominate her thoughts. There were other plans she needed to set in motion. And her other plans were far more important. And even if Dumbledore could find all of her artifacts, somehow, she didn't think he'd be able to bring himself to destroy all of them. So for the moment at least, she figured she was safe.
She wondered idly if she could make more. They'd grown harder and harder to create. She thought creating the snake was going to end her even in her weakened state she'd thought it would all just be over. But she'd woken up to a shocked Wormtail and recovered as much as she'd been able.
"No one has come by since you went into the house," Nagini said. Voldemort thought calling it a house was generous. But she didn't comment.
"Here, Nagini," she said, gesturing to her shoulders. The snake slithered up to her, then wrapped around her leg and slid up her back to her shoulders.
"I'm going to take you to London," she said calmly. "Sneak into Knockturn alley and spy for me. Listen to conversations that seem out of place. I'll come by to find you in a few days," she said. Ordering the snake out into public gave her some pause. But she knew it was adept at hiding in any environment. A dark shadowy alley would be all it would need.
"Yes master," it responded as they left Little Hangleton with a loud pop.
August came sooner than Harry expected. It was an almost welcome relief to see the calendar change. He always dreaded his time spent at the Dursley's, but the last week or so had been remarkably pleasant.
Granted, that was mostly because he spent next to no time at Privet drive. Instead, most of his days were spent at a local park, sitting or talking with Phoebe as she watched her sister. It was nice. It reminded him of off days between exams at Hogwarts, when term was wrapping up. He loved the days when he would just sit out by the lake with Ron and Hermione. Hermione would prattle on about exams, and Ron would point out girls or talk about quidditch. Harry would usually just sit quietly and listen.
And that was mostly all he did now. He would sit quietly and listen as Phoebe would talk about something or other. Usually for a half hour or so she'd talk. He'd respond when appropriate and then they'd be silent, content to enjoy the warm summer sun.
After a half hour of silence, he'd ask a question. He'd ask mostly out of worry, convinced that she disliked the long silences and that she thought he was foolish or was looking for an excuse to leave or anything. She'd smile her one dimpled smile and then start talking again.
This pattern would continue for most of the day. As the sun would set she'd walk home with her younger sister, and he'd return to Privet drive.
Walking into the Dursley's home brought reality back to him though. He still hadn't found a way to shake off that sinking feeling in his stomach every time he knew he had to return. He knew, before he even walked in, that there would be no news of the wizarding world, that there would be nothing from Ron or Hermione of any substance, and that he would be able to do nothing other than try to sleep and hope the next day came soon.
Sleep troubled him though. He slept fitfully, waking up quite often during the night. Sometimes five to six times. He'd never really been a heavy sleeper, and he'd always been an early riser, but he'd usually slept through the night. But now that seemed to be a rarity with the dreams.
The dreams puzzled him. They were abstract, weird, and confusing, and he had no idea what to make of them. He half wondered if he should write to Professor Trelawney and ask for interoperation. But he already knew what that would be. He was doomed to die a terrible death at a very young age. That was easily predictable. He'd rather not think about if she was right.
But there were just about objects. One night he'd dream of cups, the next jewels, sometimes he'd dream of himself. Often he'd dream of a corridor with a door far down the path that he could never seem to reach. Sometimes he'd dream of all three.
Sometimes they'd be pleasant, like he'd be kissing Cho Chang. But oft they wouldn't stay that way, like he'd realize he was kissing Cho Chang on the back of a gigantic snake that wanted nothing more than to eat him.
He didn't particularly like waking up in a cold sweat because he'd been eaten alive by a snake, but, annoyingly, he was growing rather accustomed to it. Harry decided, though, that he had much better things to focus on and instead looked around the park.
It was the same park that he'd met Phoebe at. More often than not it was where they came to talk. She'd been with him that night but she'd left to take her sister home. She told him she'd be back if her parents would let her back out. But he knew it was growing late and they may tell her to stay inside.
He lay on a picnic table, staring up at the stars, going over some of his last astronomy classes in his head. He picked out certain constellations, mostly out of habit, focusing on his favorites.
"Which one are you looking for?" Phoebe asked from behind him. He sat up on the picnic table and looked over at her. Today she wore a yellow sundress, her hair braided down her back.
"Just gazing mostly. Was looking at Ursa Major," he gestured to it in the sky. Her gaze shifted upward, but not in the exact correct direction. She nodded a bit
"That's supposed to look like a bear, right?" She asked.
"Supposed to," Harry said. "I never really thought they looked like anything. I was abysmal at astronomy for my first two years of school."
"I never thought they looked like anything either. Except like the dippers those are obvious. Astronomy is a required class where you go to school?" She sat on the table next to him, staring up at the sky. She sat close to him, her perfume filling his nostrils for a moment.
"Yeah. It's not too bad though. A lot of charting mostly. And a lot of identifying the constellations. It's pretty basic. And it's just one night a week for a couple of hours," Harry explained. "We can drop it after our fifth year."
"Are you going to drop it?" Phoebe asked quietly.
"I guess that depends on how I do on the year end exams" Harry said with a laugh. She smiled at him.
"I wish we had cooler electives like that," she sighed wistfully. Harry's first thought was to inquire about what classes she took. But he figured that would make him sound far too ignorant of Muggle education, so he surprised the comment. He just stared at her for a moment. She was staring up at the sky, a smile plastered onto her face.
"So your parents let you head back out?" he asked. He figured it wasn't the best topic of conversation. But it was better than him admitting he knew absolutely nothing about the types of classes muggles took in school.
"Not really," Phoebe said. She turned to look at him with a mischievous smirk.
"What they don't know won't hurt them?" Harry asked. For some reason he couldn't help but smirk back.
"Oh they know," she laughed, shaking her head. "But I told them that you'd be waiting for me to come back because I said I'd come back so that at the very least I'd have to come back and tell him that I was past my curfew and return home."
"And that worked?" Harry asked.
"Well I'm here, aren't I?" she teased.
"I guess you are," he said. "Should we start walking home then?"
"We probably should," she said quietly. But she didn't move.
"Yet we aren't," Harry responded.
"We are not," Phoebe nodded. "Unless you're in a hurry to get rid of me."
"Not at all," Harry said. "It's a nice night. I'm pretty content. I know the Dursley's won't be looking for me as long as I'm back before Dudley."
"And what time is that?" she asked.
"Lately? Between one and two," Harry said.
"I can't believe they're okay with that," she responded with a frown.
"I doubt they would be if they even suspected it," Harry said. "But they go to bed early. And sleep like rocks. As long as he's quiet they just assume he's home by his curfew."
"Lucky him. Mine won't go to sleep until I'm home," she said. Harry frowned and looked away, wondering just how his parents would have reacted to him staying out too late. Everything he knew about James told him that his father probably wouldn't have been too concerned as long as he didn't bother them when he got home. But he suspected that his mother would have been less accommodating.
"I guess," he said after a long pause. Phoebe pressed her lips together, as if she understood his hesitance and didn't know how to continue talking without pressing the conversation into an area that they had steered clear of in their other conversations. Harry turned his gaze back to the stars. He heard a commotion from down one of the streets, something that sounded like boys laughing.
"That sounds like Dudley," Phoebe said quietly.
"It does," Harry said, turning his gaze toward where he heard the noise.
"Well maybe we should start heading away then," Phoebe said, sounding slightly concerned. Harry could see Dudley's gang approaching the park as Phoebe slipped off of the picnic table.
Harry observed the gang for a few moments before moving, resisting the urge to reach for his wand. But he relaxed after a moment. Dudley and his friends were clearly parting ways. Piers was slipping off down one of the side streets toward his home. Two others loitered for a moment while Dudley wandered over in the direction of the park. He probably intended to use it as a shortcut to return to Privet drive.
"They're going home," Harry said. Then frowned. "I should at least make it home by the time Dudley does though." Harry slipped off of the picnic table as well. He moved to stand next to Phoebe as Dudley entered the park.
"Let's go," Phoebe said quietly, slipping between Harry and Dudley. Unfortunately they knew they'd be moving in the same direction as his cousin. They started to walk away, but Dudley caught up to them.
"Potter and Mitchell still?" Dudley said. His voice was cold and he clearly didn't like the thought of that. "You can do much better Phoebe."
"Probably," Phoebe said dryly. "But not amongst present company."
"Beat up another ten year old tonight, Big D?" Harry asked.
"None of your damn business," his cousin spat back.
"You didn't lose to a ten-year-old did you?" Harry asked, faking shock.
"Of course not," Dudley spat. "And if you'd like to go a few rounds to prove it."
"Sure," Harry smiled jovially. "Let's duel."
"Very funny," Dudley said. They were leaving the park then. Phoebe's street would come up well before theirs. She stayed close to Harry as they moved. As if he could protect her from his cousin. Of course he could, and would, if he tried anything. But she had no idea just what that protection would entail. And he suspected that she never would.
They continued walking in a tense silence. Harry couldn't help but be amazed at how stilted the air felt just from Dudley's presence. Harry ignored it, though, and just kept walking. At least until he turned a corner and felt the temperature drop.
"Get behind me," he said urgently. Dudley and Phoebe paused, both not seeming to notice the temperature change as quickly as he had.
"What?" Phoebe asked quietly as Harry stepped ahead, his hand pulling his wand from his pocket. Phoebe stared curiously at the stick.
"As if Potter," Dudley said, stepping ahead of Harry and then pausing. His eyes went wide and he started to shake. His head darted around, as if looking for an invisible assailant.
"What's going on?" Phoebe yelled.
"Dudley get back here!" Harry yelled over her, trying to make his tone as forceful as he possibly could. But his cousin ignored him. He did the exact opposite instead and ran forward, in the direction of Privet drive and the dementor that he couldn't see.
It took Harry a moment to recognize it. The creature floated perhaps twenty feet down the road. Frost was forming on the plants and asphalt around it and he wondered just how long it had been waiting for him to enter Privet Drive.
Harry did the only thing he could think of. He chased after his cousin, leaving Phoebe behind without a thought. He held his wand up but hesitated. He couldn't use magic in front of both Dudley and Phoebe. He could probably get away with it with just Dudley. As Dudley obviously knew about the magical world. But he'd have a much harder time explaining Phoebe to the ministry.
Harry knew he wouldn't catch up to Dudley though. His cousin ran square into the dementor. It grabbed him by the throat with a bony hand and lifted Dudley into the air. He wondered just what his cousin was thinking as he floated there, lifted by some unnatural force. Knowing Dudley he probably assumed that Harry was causing it somehow.
But as the dementor leaned toward him, drawing Dudley toward it's hooded cloak, Harry knew that he only had two options left. He could let the dementor take Dudley's soul. It would be over in just a few moments if he did. And, he thought wryly, it might even be an improvement. Or he could save his cousin. For the briefest of moments he wished there was even a choice to make.
"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled. At first just silver mist came out. He cursed to himself, wondering if he'd even be able to come up with a happy enough memory to summon the stag. The mist, though, did distract the dementor enough to lower Dudley to the ground. It fixed its gaze on Harry and started to float over toward him. Harry felt his skin tingle on the back of his neck as the air chilled even more around him.
Harry paused. Images flashed through his mind as he looked for anything that would warm him for the moment. Phoebe's smiling face gave him pause, followed by her laugh as she prattled on about something or another. He smiled and raised his wand once more.
"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled once more. This time the stag emerged from the tip of his wand and charged at the dementor. It turned immediately to flee, Harry let the stag chase it for a moment, at least until he heard a shriek from behind him.
He turned to see another dementor had floated up behind Phoebe. She'd fallen and was sitting on the pavement staring around wildly, looking up at where she could almost sense something was amiss. Harry saw her slump over, her arms sliding around her head, and wheeled his arm around, pointing his wand at the second threat.
He was about to speak the incantation once more when he felt the silver stag rush through him and charge down the new dementor. It crashed into the cloaked figure, causing it to make an unearthly shriek as it turned to flee.
Harry lowered his wand and ran over to Phoebe. He slid down next to her, wincing a bit as the pavement brushed against his jeans. He gasped at her.
"Phoebe are you okay, Phoebe!" her eyes were closed but her breathing was even. After a moment she opened them, blinking up at him.
"What happened?" she asked. "I feel horrible."
"I don't know," Harry lied. She just gazed at him for a moment, shaking her head and struggling to her feet. He stood with her, standing in front of her.
"It was suddenly so cold," she frowned and looked around.
"I know, I felt it too," Harry said. "But it seems to be gone now."
"Yes, it does," she said.
"We should get you home," he said, realizing they were on her street, just doors down from her house. She nodded, as if she thought that was the best idea she'd heard in a while. He started walking with her, toward her house, when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.
"Boy where you going!" Mrs. Figg shrieked. Harry blinked and looked over at her, wondering why she was there.
"I'm taking Phoebe home," Harry said sternly. "Then I'll come back for Dudley."
"Don't leave me alone here!" Mrs. Figg said but Harry ignored her.
"Who's that?" Phoebe asked.
"My neighbor, Mrs. Figg," Harry said. "No idea what she wants." He was walking close to her. She moved shakily and he wanted to make sure he could grab her if she fell again.
"The crazy cat lady?" Phoebe asked, obviously Mrs. Figg's reputation proceeded her.
"That's the one," Harry said.
"What is she doing out here," Phoebe said weakly. They were only a few doors down from her house.
"No idea," Harry said. "Maybe she lost a cat."
"Maybe," Phoebe giggled quietly. She was walking more normally now, and Harry could see some blush coming back to her cheeks. They stopped in front of her yard.
"We're here," he said. She nodded to him.
"Thanks for walking me home," she said quietly. "I feel better now. I wonder what that was."
"Me too," Harry said. "Have some chocolate when you get inside if you have any."
"Why?" she asked carefully.
"I think it'll help. It always warms me up," Harry said. Phoebe looked at him for a moment but nodded.
"Alright I think I will," she said. "Good night Harry."
"Good night, Phoebe," Harry said. She gave him one last smile before walking up the door and entering the house. Harry waited for a moment, before walking back down to where he'd left Dudley and Mrs. Figg.
"Boy, where's your wand!" she barked when he walked up to them. Dudley was laying on the pavement, moaning more loudly than Harry figured was appropriate.
"Here," Harry said, taking it out of his pocket. "You're a witch?"
"A squib!" Mrs. Figg said. "Dementors! Here! Dementors!"
"Yes I saw them," Harry said dryly. He walked up to examine Dudley. "Help me get him onto his feet so I can get him home," Harry said.
"I can't lift him!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed. She looked around nervously, eyes darting up and down the street.
"Either can I," Harry retorted. "Hence why I said help!" The older woman looked like she had no interest in actually doing that. But after a few more minutes of arguing Harry managed to get her to help Dudley up. He hoisted the boy home himself. Mrs. Figg disappearing as they walked up the path to number four.
Everything else happened in a blur. Vernon and Petunia were still awake, and his aunt and uncle were convinced that he'd cursed Dudley. He tried to explain that he'd saved them, but that explanation was interrupted by a letter containing his expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for underage use of magic outside of school. That just confirmed to his relatives that he had cursed Dudley.
So he'd had to argue more and more as more owls flew in. To his surprise, Petunia of all people, correctly knew what dementors were and what they were used for. That helped his argument a bit. And eventually, as Harry was becoming sick of reading letters and having them ripped from his hands, they accepted that he would stay until wizards came to get him for his disciplinary hearing at the ministry.
Vernon seemed thrilled by this, as if there was no doubt in his mind that Harry would wind up in the prison Petunia had referenced. They eventually went to get Dudley into bed while discussing just what evidence they would provide at Harry's disciplinary hearing. He highly doubted they'd even be allowed to attend. But he didn't deem it wise to bring that up.
He followed them silently, ducking into his own bedroom and heading to sleep. He again slept fitfully, and woke far too early. He slipped from the house before anyone could order him to make breakfast for the entire family.
He wandered through the neighborhood, vaguely remembering that one of the letters he'd received had ordered him to stay confined to the house. But he wasn't going to put up with that at the moment. The entire neighborhood already felt like a prison, he wasn't about to confine himself even more.
Harry wandered in the direction of the local school. He knew Phoebe walked her sister to her summer programs most mornings and he wondered if she had that morning. In only a couple of blocks he happily found she had.
"Hey Harry," she called, noticing him. She was wearing dark jeans and the same band t-shirt he'd first encountered her in. She had a black leather purse hung over her shoulder.
"Hey Phoebe, feeling better today?" he asked.
"Yes, but I had another odd thing happen to me this morning!" she said. She slipped her bag from her shoulder and unzipped it. She pulled out a small cream-colored envelope and handed it to him. He looked down at it.
"What's this?" he asked as he took the envelope from her. There were only words written on the face in a thin, precise cursive. Harry Potter.
"A woman came up to me after I'd dropped off my sister and asked if I knew you. When I said I did she asked if I could give this to you," Phoebe explained.
"What did she look like?" Harry asked, staring at the envelope in alarm.
"I don't know. Twenties? Brunette? Pretty normal really," Phoebe shrugged. Harry stopped moving and stared around, his eyes going wide. There was no one else on the street, but that thought didn't reassure him at all. First dementors and now….
He let that thought trail off, not wanting to think it could possibly be true. But still, he didn't open the letter. He just kept staring at it.
"You don't think it's anthrax or anything do you?" Phoebe asked carefully. "I mean I thought it was weird. She said she knew you and had to run. I was just going to point her in the direction of your house but she said she had to run immediately."
"I doubt it's anything harmful," Harry lied. He stared at it for a moment while Phoebe shrugged her shoulders.
"Well I thought it was weird. Anyway I'd love to hang out but mom's taking me to London to do some back to school shopping. Maybe this evening at the park?" Phoebe said cheerfully.
"Maybe," Harry responded carefully as she waked past him and back own toward her home. Harry watched her go, wondering how she could be so cheerful.
After she disappeared from sight he stared down at the envelope. Every fiber of his being was telling him to destroy it. Not to open it. It couldn't be anything but a trap, a rouse, some easy way to be rid of him. It had to be cursed. It just had to be.
But as he stared at it, he felt absolutely nothing. It didn't even have the slightest tinge of magic. And while he was sure Lord Voldemort could mask that, or perhaps used some type of potion or powder, he still thought he should sense something from it.
After ten minute of staring he finally caved and opened it slowly. It wasn't sealed, just folded over on itself and the letter came out easily, just one sheet of cream parchment with a few short paragraphs in the same precise cursive.
Harry,
I hope this finds you well. I was most alarmed to hear about a dementor attack on you in your muggle neighborhood. That is certainly abnormal behavior from ministry controlled creatures. I wonder if perhaps they've marked you in the last few years. Seeking you out so far from Azkaban is worrisome.
I am sure you are wondering just who could have sent them. I assure you if I knew, I would tell you. And I assure you that I was not responsible. Whatever sway I had with dementors during my last life I do not seem to possess anymore.
But I don't wish to alarm you any more than I'm sure you already are. I have heard about your ministry hearing and do sincerely wish you the best of luck. After, if you would like, I will be waiting in Highbury Fields near the Boer War memorial. I think we have much to discuss. I promise that I will be alone and that no harm will come to you if you decide to visit.
I do sincerely hope you enjoy the rest of your summer.
Yours,
LV.
Harry read it ten times. It confirmed all of his worst fears. Voldemort had been in Little Whinging. He pauses for a moment and then thought again. Voldemort had been in Little Whinging. And she'd approached and spoken to the only friend he'd had during the summer months. She could have killed him, or killed her, at any moment!
And her speculation about the dementors marking him. Was that some sort of veiled threat? Was she just telling him that she'd send more and more of the creatures after him. Or was she being honest? Harry frowned, thinking this was all too much for him.
He knew he needed to send the letter to Dumbledore, or Sirius, or anyone. Someone had to know that she'd been so close to him. So close that she could have attacked him easily. Whatever enchantments were limiting him to Privet drive clearly weren't working.
He paused and read the letter once more. Then frowned.
Her tone was different than what he'd received. The letters from his friends about his hearing had seemed angry. They'd told him to stay inside, to stay low, to not do anything stupid. Yet the one in his hands just wished him well.
And, he thought, she could have killed him. She could have killed Phoebe. She could have done quite a lot of damage. But she hadn't. She'd given the letter to someone that she must have observed he had contact with. That thought sent a shiver up his spine. Just how long had she been spying on him to know that Phoebe could get him the letter?
Still, she hadn't harmed the girl. Or him. Or even made any attempt to. He folded the letter in half and tucked it into a pocket. He wouldn't go see her in London after his hearing. He didn't even know where that park was. Or if he'd even be allowed alone in London. For some reason he doubted it. And he wasn't going to walk into a trap, no matter what she said.
But it still gave him pause. Why would she even bother sending it then? He shook his head and walked back to Privet drive, thinking that perhaps requesting himself into the house wasn't the worst idea anyone could have had. At the very least his summer assignments were done and he figured he could see if he could figure out how to use Dudley's old video game systems to pass the time.
