Chapter Seven:

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Daniel's mother had been worried. In fact, she had spent most of the day wringing her hands and wearing down a path in the carpet by the front door. By the time Daniel and Harry had flooed back to the sad little cottage at half past seven, she had been driven spare. She had looked in a panic, and before Daniel could even brush off the soot from his clothes, she had enveloped him in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. When she finally let go, he sucked in so much air that he sucked in soot as well and started a sneezing fit. His mother sent him upstairs to his room for a handkerchief while she told Harry under her breath that she needed to speak to him in the kitchen, immediately.

Daniel knew what that meant and scurried up the steps even though he didn't feel the need to blow his nose. Poor Harry, he thought, he's really going to get it from Mum, and he didn't do anything.

Daniel emptied his pockets of all his items and put them in a corner, he would pack later. He was more worried about how he was supposed to use his shrunken books and other items. As he stood there contemplating he heard his mother raise her voice at Harry downstairs in the kitchen. Bits and pieces of their conversation floated up to his room and he decided to sit on the steps and listen in.

"…I am not so sure I want him to go anymore…" his mother was saying. Not go? Why not? Why had she changed her mind so suddenly? Daniel was suddenly afraid that the whole world he had just learned was out there would suddenly be taken away from him.

"…it could be dangerous…" Daniel could hear his mother speaking, but Harry was much calmer and had not raised his voice at her.

"I know it's only a school, but it was only a school when you and I were there… and look at what happened to you!"

"Voldemort was out to kill me! No one is after Daniel," said Harry finally raising his voice enough for Daniel to make out the other side of the conversation.

"…I am afraid I could lose him like I lost his father!" said Abby, breaking down into tears. He could hear her sobbing, it became muffled and Daniel wondered why his mother thought he would be in danger. It was just a boarding school. What could possibly happen at a boarding school?

It had taken Harry some convincing to get Abby back on track. She was scared; she had every right to be. But her fear was poisoning Daniel's life. Harry fought to keep his composure and they went through the entire process of how Daniel would arrive at Hogwarts. After some time Abby had calmed down and managed a weak smile when Harry joked with her.

As was becoming a habit, Harry returned home completely knackered. He walked into the living room and saw Ginny had fallen asleep on the couch. Sighing, he tiptoed over to the couch and gently picked her up so he could lay down. She didn't wake, but sighed and snuggled into his chest. Harry breathed in the scent of her hair and laid his hand on her belly to feel the baby's fluttering until he too fell into a deep sleep.

Not nearly far enough away for comfort, there stood a handsome man who would have looked like a very nice neighbour to have if it weren't for the cruelty embedded in his cold blue eyes. The room was small and chilly; the only furniture in the room was a small table and a chair that had been overturned quite some time ago. The floors and the windows were covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, and the wind howled up from the sea through the cracks of the shack and on its solitary way.

The man began to pace impatiently this way and that in the small shack, wearing a path through the carpet of dust covering the floor. He pulled out a pocket watch and then quickly pocketed it again. He was beginning to tire of this little waiting game. He looked around for something to do, something to occupy his time.

He heard a squeak and some skittering noises coming from the corner of the room and peered through the dim light in that direction. His lips curled into a cruel smile at the sight of the small family of mice that were making their way to a small hole by the old fireplace. He quietly pulled out his wand and conjured a cage in which to put them in. He then spent the next fifteen minutes placing the Cruciatus curse on each mouse in turn. Then he released them one by one, let them run around bewildered before he perfected his aim with the Avada Kedavra curse.

His attention was diverted at the sound of a loud crack outside the door. He stepped into the shadows and waited for the man he knew was about to enter the shack. The door creaked on its hinges and the pale moonlight illuminated the silhouette of an old, hunched man in the doorway.

The last mouse, still crazed with pain, ran between the old man's feet. The green light that shot out from the darkest corner of the shack hit the mouse squarely on the back and it dropped dead instantly at the man's feet. He let out a shrill shriek and fell backwards, out onto the weeds by the door. He lay there, frozen in terror, shrieking and snivelling.

"Now, now Peter, I was only playing a childhood game," said the cruel voice out of the shadows.

"Master?" whimpered the withering Peter Pettigrew.

"Yes, that's right, all those years in Azkaban and you still remember me. I seem to have made quite the impression on you."

"Why did you take me out of Azkaban? Why have you brought me here? I do not wish to play your silly games; I am a withering old man, I wish to die in peace."

"You will die soon if you use that tone with me again, but I can make no promises as to the peaceful part!" said the younger man as he rushed out of the shadows and towered over the cowering old man. "The years have not been easy on you have they Pettigrew?"

"No, sir," whimpered Pettigrew. "Harry Potter took my Master and with him my hand. I have been rotting ever since!"

"Never mention that name in my presence again!" screamed the young man, digging his wand into the flesh on Pettigrew's neck. "I should have left you to rot in Azkaban, you'e right! You are nothing but a snivelling old man, my father should have killed you the instant you served your purpose."

He moved his wand away from Peter's neck and stood up to move away from him. "Luckily for me, you can serve a new purpose."

"What is that, Master?"

"Now we can finish what my father could not. We will kill the man who took my father, who took your hand, who took our glory! His deeds will not go unpunished!" panted the young man, the hatred clear in his cold blue eyes.

Harry sat up suddenly. Sweat was pouring into his eyes, he was breathing heavily and trembling. Not now, not after so long, he thought.

"Harry what's wrong?" asked Ginny worriedly.

Harry looked at her for a moment; she had seen that look many times in the past, she knew what it meant. But those nightmares had ended years ago. "Nothing, it was just a bad dream," he mumbled.

"What was it about?"

"I could only see shadows and flashes of green. It was nothing that made any sense at all, Ginny. It was silly really, I am sorry I woke you up."

Ginny knew him better and was anything but convinced. Sighing, she placed her hand on his cheek and said, "How about we go sleep in our bed, we are getting too old to sleep on a couch, and the baby is about to push me onto the floor."

Harry nodded and helped her stand up. Slowly they made their way up the stair to their bed. Harry helped her into the bed, and let her lay her head on his chest. Soon she was breathing deeply and evenly, lost in her own realm of dreams, but Harry could not even close his eyes. He spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness and holding his everything- his world, his family- as tightly as he could until the first rays of dawn crept in through the window and he dozed off with the comfort of the light.