It turned out there were even more things that came with Harry being fourteen. There were the formal dinners he now attended, of course. According to Alduin, he handled himself well, thankfully. It had only been the Shafiqs and the Burkes so far, but still, Harry thought that holding his own with Alexandra's father was quite something to be proud of, even if he'd been seated as far from him as was possible and Alduin, Alexandra and Mr. and Mrs. Theodore did his best to rescue him as often as they could.
Apart from that, though, Harry discovered another one when his Hogwarts letter finally came about a fortnight after his birthday. As Harry readied to meet other Gryffindors in Diagon Alley, Alduin said: „I'll leave you to your own devices there, but first we need to go to Gringotts together."
"Why?" Harry asked in surprise.
"At fourteen, you have partial control of your family money," Alduin replied. "You should visit your family vault."
Now Harry was confused. "But...I thought I already had control? I mean, I have the key and everything?"
Alduin shook his head. "That was just your trust fund for when you are a minor. Your actual family vault is deeper, and much better protected than by a mere key. You have seen the Travers one, have you not? It's similar."
It was. Including the amount of money and other prized objects that was actually inside.
Harry hadn't thought he could still be surprised by riches, but here he was.
"So...all of this is at my disposal now?" He asked incredulously.
"To a limited extent. You cannot withdraw it all, or sell the vault, or anything along those lines, and you couldn't get rid of any of the heirlooms, but as far as money goes, yes, effectively."
Harry had to fight very hard to keep the "wow" inside.
At any rate, there was one thing he was determined to do, now even more than ever.
"How do I go about buying World Cup tickets for my friends?" He asked on the way back.
Alduin gave a small smile – well, more of a smirk, really. "That won't be an issue."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" It didn't look like Alduin was trying to forbid it, but...
"I have been generously invited," Alduin said in an exaggerated0, tone of voice that clearly indicated he was teasing, "along with you and Alexandra, to sit in the Minister's box, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. But it just so happened that I already had the tickets...so we now have two tickets too many, and would you look at it, just two of your friends who would like to go but have no means to."
Harry beamed at him. "This is perfect," he declared. "Can I tell them?"
Alduin considered that. "I suppose...I was planning to write to Sophie's parents – and speak to Mrs. Longbottom, it might take some convincing – but there's no harm in telling them in advance."
Harry was thrilled. He could see how this was a better plan, of course. The Tournament tickets were probably no small price, and it might have made Sophie feel awkward if he gave it to her as a gift. Spare tickets, however, well, that was quite different!
He would have to invent a different birthday surprise for Neville, of course – he had only given him a small token with a promise of more to come later –, but it was well worth it.
In fact, given that the Gryffindors were bound to discuss the Cup and Neville and Sophie would probably feel awkward, he decided to open with it. Alduin felt bad about having Harry shop for school supplies with his own money, but Harry didn't care, and certainly preferred it to Alduin hanging around his group of friends, so he promised to get home at a reasonable hour by Floo and bis his cousin goodbye.
Then, as the Gryffindors all headed towards Flourish and Blotts, he said: "How about a trip to Flortescue's first, to celebrate?"
"Celebrate what?" Sophie asked him. "If you haven't noticed, we already had a party for your birthday."
"More than one," Ron added.
"Oh, it's not me we're celebrating...it's the approaching Cup!"
Sophie scowled at him. "Are you actually trying to piss me off?" She asked.
"Not at all...just come and sit down. The weather's nice, we deserve an ice-cream."
Rather bewildered, the others agreed. Once they had their order and sat down, Harry grinned at them. "So," he said, "I just spoke to my cousin about the Cup...and it seems there's been some mishap. Shortly after he bought the tickets for me, he got different ones as a gift...so now, he has two spare ones!"
They stared at him for a moment. Sophie figured it out first. "Are you serious?" She squealed.
"Yeah."
"Oh my God, Harry, I love you!" She exclaimed, and almost climbed across the table to hug him.
"Wait...for real? You want to take us?" Neville asked.
"Yeah. You can't miss that, mate."
"I don't know if my Gran..." Neville muttered.
"Alduin'll speak to her," Harry said reassuringly. "Besides, isn't she always complaining you don't do more Gryffindor stuff? This should satisfy her."
Neville and Sophie insisted on buying Harry another ice-cream.
They spent the whole afternoon chatting about the Cup excitedly, and only began to feel any inclination to return home towards the evening, when they started to drift back one by one. Neville and Harry were left last, and as they passed the closing shops, Harry suddenly got an idea.
"Come with me," he said to Neville. "I still owe you that proper fourteenth birthday gift."
And he took him to Ollivanders.
"Seriously?" Neville asked, uncomprehending.
"Yes," Harry said firmly. "Having your own wand is key in magic, you know that. And you don't even have to tell your Gran – you can use your dad's in front of her if you want. But this one will be for Hogwarts. And it will be for..." They exchanged a look. "If you should ever really need it."
And so, half an hour later, Neville was walking away with a brand new one, with a unicorn hair core and made of cherry wood, beaming at Harry and seeming like he had grown an inch at least since the moment he took it into his hands. "Thank you, Harry," he said sincerely. "I've never felt like that with a wand in my hand before. I knew it was important, but...I really do think this will make a lot of difference in my duelling."
Harry shrugged. "It's not like you were bad before," he said, "but...any way we can make it easier on us, we should take it."
Neville gave a firm nod. The people they'd be fighting, if it ever came down to it, would have the advantage of age and experience over them. There was no need to give them any more.
"See you tomorrow, Harry," Neville said as they reached the Diagon Alley Floo. "I can't wait to test in in one of your drills."
Harry only smiled. Yes, he supposed he really should prepare something extra for Neville for the following day.
-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-
It was about ten days later that Harry woke up in the middle of the night with a pain in his scar so sharp he screamed a little.
He sat up in bed, breathing hard. He had been dreaming, he knew, but of what? He couldn't quite remember properly, but there had been a room...and some people in there...of course. Riddle. Riddle had been one of them.
He shuddered when he remembered it. He couldn't really see Riddle, but there was one man he saw plainly enough, and the memory filled him with the loathing he couldn't summon up after the trial: Peter Pettigrew.
It seemed that, at least in Harry's dream, the man had been truly loyal to Riddle after all, and had hurried to his side as soon as he could.
There had been a third man, too...and Riddle killed him. But who was he? Harry didn't know.
Harry tried to put pressure on his scar. It was still hurting. He checked in the mirror, but nothing visible was happening. What could it mean?
The last time his scar had hurt, Riddle had been near, but Harry was safely in Travers Manor now, so that couldn't be it. So what was happening?
Harry remembered what Alduin had told him, that his scar was a kind of connection. Could he have actually seen Riddle? Was it more than just a dream, could he have seen what he was doing?
His head hurt as he was contemplating it, from more than just the scar. He needed to talk to Alduin, but he could hardly wake him in the middle of the night. So he spent the rest of it pacing him room, restless, the pain in his scar only receding very gradually.
He hardly ate anything at breakfast.
"Are you alright?" Alduin asked him, when he noticed.
Harry muttered something non-committal "I need to talk to you," he said then.
"Of course," Alduin said immediately, exchanging a worried look with Alexandra, and pushed back his chair.
"It doesn't have to be right now," Harry said, apologetic. "I mean, finish your breakfast."
Alduin shook his head. "Something's clearly bothering you. Let's get it out of the way."
Harry followed Alduin to his study. "Well?" His cousin asked. "What is it?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I woke up in the middle of the night today...and, well, my scar was hurting. And I mean a lot."
Alduin frowned. "As much as when you met Quirrel?"
"More, I think," Harry admitted.
Now Alduin was seriously alarmed. "Do you have any idea what might have caused it?"
Harry hesitated. It sounded stupid in the light of the day.
"Whatever idea might be helpful," Alduin said encouragingly.
"I...had a dream before I woke up. I dreamed about Riddle."
Alduin looked briefly horrified before he schooled his face into something a it more neutral. "What happened in that dream?" He asked, looking like he was dreading the answer.
"Pettigrew was there," Harry explained, "and some third guy, I don't know who. But Riddle killed him."
Alduin grimaced. "Do you know where they were?"
Harry shook his head. "Some old house? Sorry, I have no idea."
Alduin frowned for a moment. "All right," he said. "The best thing to do right now would be to try and get your memory of the dream before it evaporates completely. We could view it in a Pensive, where it would be somewhat clearer. Would you agree to that?"
"Of course," Harry said immediately. "Is it possible?" He knew displayers were basically someone's captured memories, but he hadn't known it could be done to just anyone.
"To a degree," Alduin replied. "Just wait a moment."
Alduin stuck his head in the fireplace and called Mr. Mercurius. After a brief conversation, he emerged again and turned back to Harry. "He'll bring his boyfriend here," he explained. "Daniel Goldstein is a mind healer, and he'll be best able to help with the extraction. They should be here in a few minutes. How is your scar now?"
Harry shrugged. "I can still feel it, but it's nothing like in the night. Do you think this is the connection to Riddle you talked about?"
"Undoubtedly." Alduin frowned. "I'll have to find some way to alert Dumbledore about this."
The phrasing confused Harry. "Can't you just tell him?"
Alduin grimaced. "No, because I don't want him to know about the connection. I don't trust him with the information. He could get the idea that it could be explored or exploited somehow, and...no."
Harry nodded in understanding. He certainly had no wish for anyone to try and get to Riddle through his scar, especially if they had to use his mind to do it.
"What does this mean?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. He had been completely caught off guard by the dream, but it seemed to him that it did make some kind of sense to his cousin, even though he didn't seem to like the conclusions he was reaching.
Alduin sighed, and sat down heavily on the chair behind his desk. "That we were right in our fears and predictions," he said grimly. "Pettigrew really did search out Riddle, and what's more, they evacuated their old place in Albania – I know that much from Kingsley. It could have been out of fear they'd be discovered, but there's also a chance that it's because they have a plan...and if so, they could he heading back to Britain, or even be here already. It's...disquieting."
Mr. Mercurius and Daniel Goldstein were shown in in that moment, and Alduin got up to introduce Daniel and explain the situation.
"All right, Mr. Potter," Daniel said to Harry, "I want you to relax-" he transfigured a chair into a sofa without asking, and motioned towards it. "Lie down, please. Close your eyes, and think of the dream. Think of the dream as much as you can. Try to remember every detail..."
Mr. Goldstein's voice took on a hypnotic quality as he went on for a good while. They, finally, he said: "Now take out your wand and put it to your temple..."
Harry obeyed, moving slowly, and Mr. Goldstein put his hand over his. "Now," he said, "let us pull on this dream..."
And painstakingly slowly, Harry felt something – something cold, very thin and spidery – trailing out of hid head. The feeling went on for about a minute, and then it was over.
"It's all right now," Mr. Goldstein said. "You can come back...open your eyes..."
Harry did, confused. "Did you get it?" He asked after a moment, looking around.
"I believe so," Mr. Goldstein replied, and motioned to the Pensieve.
They all gathered around it, and Alduin explained: "It's exactly like a displayer, Harry – just lean your head towards the surface, and you'll be inside the memory."
Obligingly, Harry did. What he saw inside, apart from all the people from Alduin's study joining him, was an indistinct room with a fire the only clear point. Even Pettigrew, standing by it and talking to someone, was sort of blurry, and Harry could only recognize him because his voice was so distinctive. The person who answered him had a voice that was plenty distinctive, too – high and very, very cold. Words could only be distinguished now and then, but the tone was cruel and unpleasant. They talked about killing some woman in the past, and they talked about planing to do away with Harry in future. There was also some discussion about Wormtail's loyalty.
Then, Riddle's snake – was the man trying to turn himself into a cliché? - told him there was someone behind the door, and then the old man came in, Pettigrew turned Riddle's chair...and the old man died.
The four people emerged from the Pensieve and stayed silent for a moment.
"Any of you recognized the place?" Alduin asked at length.
They all shook their heads.
"Can we assume they all, including the man who was killed, actually spoke English?" He turned the question particularly to Mr. Goldstein.
"English or a language Riddle can understand as well as that. If it cost him some effort to translate, it wouldn't have translated so seamlessly in Mr. Potter's mind either," Mr. Goldstein replied evenly.
Alduin gave a grim nod. "So most likely," he said, "he's here. Well, it was to be expected." He looked at the two men. "I will not ask you for secrecy about this information – people should be warned, and I trust you to use your discretion. But I do have to ask for absolute secrecy concerning how you found out."
They both gave their word solemnly, and then they were gone and Alduin and Harry were alone again.
"So...what now?" Harry asked.
Alduin took a deep breath, and then he squared his shoulders. "We up the ante on your training. We make all the preparations we can, and we do our best to find Riddle. But the last is unlikely to succeed, since we have few hints, so...we wait. He will make a move sooner or later. We have to be ready when he does."
Harry gave a grim nod, and Alduin left, no doubt to start whatever preparations he thought necessary. Harry, meanwhile, headed towards the nursery. His little cousins were always the best way to get rid of any dark thoughts, and he needed that now more than ever.
Thankfully, Wynn was in a good mood. It amazed Harry sometimes, how his older cousin could be the cutest, sweetest child in the whole world one moment, and another become so unreasonable that even Harry's patience with him grew short, something he always felt very guilty for afterwards.
But now he was sweet and smiling, and welcomed Harry into his game with building blocks, and so Harry did his best to help him construct a tower Wynn then seemed to take equal joy in seeing fall. Harry ruffled his hair, and then looked to the side to Edric, who was chewing on one of his fists as he was waving a rattle around with the other. I will not let anything happen to you, he promised once again, looking at the boys. If Riddle is back, I don't care if I have to die to bring him down, he will never touch you.