I don't own the story or the characters of Harry Potter, this work is entirely fan-made. The rights to everything Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. I also have no beta or proof-reader (at least not a human one) so expect some mistakes from time to time.
The house was abandoned, he was sure of it. No light came from the windows at night, just shadows that moved when the moon was unlucky enough to strike a weird surface. At least that is what the town thought. It would have been normal for a house to be abandoned, especially in this town, where several murders had occurred over the years, but there was no sign out at the front, not even a number on the front door. It was as if someone had tried to remove all traces of the owners from the building, but he knew that there were people who had indeed lived in the rooms of the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. Frank was sure of it.
The townsfolk that claimed to see things, people in the window were just deemed crazy. The house was abandoned, he was sceptical of that though. The things that happened every night that month were becoming less and less explainable. The loud thumps that would echo down the lane, the sharp flashes of the moon as if the light was caught on some metal, even the house itself seemed to creak in the wind. But Frank knew better. There wasn't anyone there, no one had lived in that house since the Riddles.
There was someone in the house, he feared. This was the third time that week that someone had complained about flashing lights in the windows of the old house.
"It's probably just some dumb kids playing a practical joke or something to amuse themselves. I'll check it out." He reluctantly said, forgetting that he had left the kettle on the stove. Frank grabbed a torch and his coat, slipping into the worn fabric with a struggle in his old age. Frank had been all but done with the town of Little Hangleton and its inhabitants over twenty years ago but he had stayed to honour the former master and mistress of the house by staying and gardening for all this time. He had been falsely and rudely accused of murdering them, and their son, Morfin, but as the autopsy from the police had shown, they had not even been harmed during that evening. Not a single, cut, hole, a trace of poison or anything of the like had been found in their bodies. It was as if they had been frightened to death, owing to their deathly cold touch and white faces. The colour had drained from his own soon after and hadn't returned. The only person that he had seen anywhere near the Riddles on the night of their death was a pale boy, with short black hair, wearing a travelling coat that seemed to reach the ground. But he wasn't sure that the boy could have done it, he was just a teenager, twenty at best. However, he was the only person near the scene, so naturally, Frank had the blame placed on him.
The house was just as creepy as ever, trees raking their branches over some of the walls. He was never able to trim those stubborn branches, thanks to his stiff knee, that the war had given him for his service. Most of the windows were broken in these days, and though he tried, Frank couldn't get the bloody teenagers to stop having rock-throwing contests at them, so they stayed cracked, paneless and draughty. As Frank's shaky fingers slipped the key into the rusty lock on the front door, he saw immediately that nothing else had been touched. Normally, the kids would make off with a piece of decoration or sometimes a chair, but everything was exactly in place, at least, what was left of everything. Pointing his torch over to the stairs in the middle of the room, he saw that there were fingerprints in the dust. He shook his head, muttering "No respect for my work," and began to climb them steadily. Each step he took was making an echo on the dusty and worn wood. Maybe the delinquents would hear him first and leave before he could reach them but he didn't care either way. His knee pained him and the stairs only seemed to get steeper with each footfall.
When he reached the top step, he saw light streaming from the old Master's private library. He got closer to see the intruders but stopped when a shadow entered his sight. The light was from the grate in the hearth, it had been lit again, for the first time in over twenty years. The shadow was cast by a chair blocking Frank's vision of the fire. Then a man swept into the frame, not gracefully, nor with any slowness, but a movement similar to a scuttle. On the back of his head, there was a bald spot and he wore flowing black robes, not too dissimilar to a common Court Judge. Then came a rasping voice from the person who sat in the seat.
"Wormtail, bring me the flask, it is time for me to feed. Before the night is out, you must milk Nagini again; this journey has been tiresome on this weak form. Where is my pet, Wormtail?" The voice chilled Frank to the bone and he turned to walk away, finally done with the stupid kids. So he began to walk backwards, intent on leaving the house and leaving the new inhabitants to reveal themselves later until the disembodied voice spoke again.
"Ah, it seems our guest has arrived, Wormtail, let me see him with my own eyes."
"Y- yes, of course, My Lord." The jittery man began to turn the chair and the thing that Frank saw was decidedly not human. But all he could see were a pair of blood-red eyes suspended inside a large black hood. Then a flash of green. Then nothing.
Harry bolted awake, seeing the red hangings around his bed shiver with the cold night air. It seemed that keeping your window open before you go to bed was a bad idea after all. He swung his feet over the mattress and onto the carpet that he always had by his bed for situations precisely like this one and pulled on a dressing gown. Then, as he felt the short burst of air hit his face, he thought about the dreams. They had persisted long after the dementors took their leave of Hogwarts and even though Harry had all-but mastered the Patronus charm now, the fear that one of the dark creatures could be coming for him never seemed to go away.
'Was that dream happening? And why do I keep having them?' he thought miserably to himself. Since the end of term, Harry had not heard the end of the time-turner escapade from his sister, who was still steadfastly against the devices. Neither Harry nor Hermione were keen on them after seeing what it could do to a person, especially in terms of sleep deprivation. But on the other hand, none of them could disagree with the results of the little adventure. Sirius had been found, Buckbeak was now living with him and Amelia and not a single member of staff at Hogwarts bar Dumbledore were any the wiser. All in all, despite the rift between the Potter twins growing larger in the absence of Neville and Hermione, the whole year had been a success. They had all passed, Hermione gaining more Outstanding grades than some of the highest scorers combined. And though Professor Lupin had been fired as soon as Snape was able to tell his story, he still marked and assessed the exams along with getting a sombre goodbye from his classes.
No one had seen him or even said that they had seen him since the loss of his job and the werewolf incident. Not even Sirius. Harry's Uncle Moony was in the wind it seemed. All that they could hope for was that he agreed to come to his best friend's wedding since the invitation had said to come on the 28th of July. All that his reply had said was agreeing to come to the wedding, but nothing else.
The whole family was getting ready for the Black-Bones wedding, so much so that Harry and Zoe were mostly left alone at the house in Crawley on weekdays; Lily was helping the preparation and James would periodically go to lend a hand after work. So, since most magic was off the table, bar a few basic household spells, the twins were left to their own devices. Harry invited Hermione over quite frequently too, and though she too wasn't allowed to do magic, they enjoyed the theory, studying it and the textbooks that taught the new spells for their fourth year. Whilst they were studying, Zoe preferred to fly on her broomstick, soaring above the clouds, making sure that she wasn't above any towns that could see her. The rush of flying was far more her speed than sitting inside all day and doing non-stop learning. It was only when she had passed over Crawley Library for the fourth time in an hour when Zoe finally turned back and flew, gliding over streets and offices alike to get home. Once she was there, she was greeted by the stern face of her mother and father. She gulped and smiled innocently, hoping that her excuse was up to scratch for them to believe.
"Where were you, Zoe?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. She looked to Harry for help but he shrugged and switched his attention back to making lunch.
"I was feeling a bit… cooped up so I took my broom out for a ride- but don't worry, I stayed above the clouds and wore my emergency portkey just in case." Everyone in the household was required to wear a personal portkey around their neck that when they touched it and spoke the house motto, they would be magically transported to a safe location, hopefully away from any current dangers. The parents sighed and relaxed.
"Alright, but next time, just tell us if you want to go out for a ride. Especially on your own." Lily warned them both with pointed looks. They nodded and James quickly decided to change the topic before they all got worked up.
"So, the preparations for the wedding on Saturday are nearly complete. All we need to do is get everyone dressed for it properly. And, I have to tell you both now, there will be dancing involved, and as a groomsman and bridesmaid, you will both be expected to dance at least once. So, that is what you need to be practising for the next few days." The twins looked at each other like their dad was insane.
"Who do we practice with, then?" Harry dumbly asked. His dad shook his head.
"Do I seriously have to spell it out for you? You have a girlfriend and Neville is going to be going too, so Zoe, practise with him. Either that or practise with each other. Its completely up to you two how you do it, but get it done. Am I understood?" Both Potter children nodded slowly to their father, understanding his frustration with Harry's question completely.
"Yes father." They both replied quickly.
"Good, I don't want us to besmirch our house's name just because we can't dance at your Uncle's wedding. And you didn't hear this from me, but you'll need those skills this year anyway." He finished cryptically and went upstairs without another word.
"That was odd. We aren't going to like that surprise later, are we?" Harry asked.
"Nope, that is going to come back to bite us in the ass," Zoe replied with a defeated sigh.
That night was a stressful one. Once again, Harry had a nightmare about that mansion, the one with a creepy feel to it. The gardener still didn't realise that it was a bad idea to go up those stairs and once again, he was met with red eyes and a green flash.
And here it is. The first chapter of the fourth story: The Triwizard Tournament. Hope you all enjoyed it.
