October 1992

Barty couldn't help but glance back at the kid that walked slightly behind him. Who was this kid and what in Merlin's name had he just witnessed?

The kid — Harry, he had been told — caught his gaze briefly but looked away just as fast. He ran a hand through his hair as if self-consciously trying to smooth down his impressive mess of hair. He continued to pat down the shoulders of his robes, which had gained a slight grey tinge from the dust in the air. He smoothed down the front of his clothes as they kept walking. Still, Barty could not stop his eyes from flicking to the boy far too often to be passed off as ensuring that he was still following behind.

And it was clear from the kid's expression that he thought so as well. Barty could not believe that this little kid, who spoke to the Dark Lord like he wasn't the Dark Lord, and dared speak to him with anything but a reverent 'My Lord', had the gall to look at Barty like he was the inexplicable one.

"Are you a Death Eater?" The kid asked him unexpectedly. Barty blinked, surprised to be addressed by the thus-far silent boy.

"Yes," he answered simply, but couldn't quite resist adding a few more lines of introduction, "Barty Crouch; Inner Circle Death Eater, an honour given only to the most loyal." He had to hide his smile at the thrill of joy that still hadn't worn off, even after all these years, at dropping the 'Junior' from his name following his Father's death. When he saw the kid's impressed look, however, that suppressed smile appeared on his face.

"Wicked," he murmured under his breath, "Do you think I could be one too? When I leave Hogwarts?"

Barty shrugged, though he was glad they were no longer walking in silence, leaving him to stew and consider the possibilities of the boy's association with the Dark Lord. "Our Lord seems to know you," he said ambiguously, hoping the kid would elaborate upon what he saw just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, and Barty resigned to accept the somewhat disappointing answer when he said more, "Mar-" the boy paused, running his hand through his hair again, making it messier. Barty wondered for a moment why Harry called the Dark Lord by that name. "O-our Lord…" he started, a disconcerted look flitting across his face that Barty might have mistaken for well-concealed disloyalty had he not watched the boy interact with the Dark Lord before this conversation they were having. Harry shrugged slightly, his measured silence broken by his decision to reveal what he was doing with the Dark Lord. "...Has been teaching me more about magic."

Barty felt his mouth fall slightly open in surprise; his Master had taken on a new protégé. "Huh," he murmured, giving the kid - and Merlin, he really was just a kid - an appraising look. "The new me," he commented, suddenly thinking himself rather old as he recalled those very same words Bella said to him years ago and bestowed them upon the young Slytherin.

"He taught you too?" Harry asked, curious, drawing him out of his wandering reminisce.

"Yes," he confirmed, "Though I must admit I was much older than you at the time. You must have quite some power if Our Lord is willing to invest in a kid like you."

"I am not a kid," the kid muttered indignantly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid," he ignored the glare of protest levelled at him, "I hope you don't speak to the Dark Lord like that," he said, and added after some thought, "Or look at him like that." He also hoped that the somewhat uncomprehending, uneasy look currently on Harry's face did not spell an untimely end to the kid. There was little his Lord despised more than disrespect.

He couldn't believe he had grown vaguely fond of the kid after such a short conversation. He supposed he need only look at the immediate mutual respect and understanding he shared with Bella to understand this budding relationship. There were so few of them that the Dark Lord deemed worthy to share his great wealth of knowledge with, after all.

They walked the rest of the way to the Leaky Cauldron in silence, Barty guiding Harry towards the frantically pacing Professor Tyser.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor Tyser looked quite ready to break into a sprint towards Harry.

She looked him over for any obvious injuries, but Barty interrupted with a simple, "He's fine."

The Professor glanced past Harry to see him. "Mr. Crouch!" She greeted, her voice higher than what Barty guessed was normal, with a little nod of respect. He gave Harry a little push towards the fireplace connected to the Floo Network.

"Your Professor will bring you back to Hogwarts now," the kid nodded amicably. "It was a pleasure to meet you. See you around, kid." Harry smiled despite Barry's choice of endearment and waved goodbye to him.

As he watched the green flames of the Floo whisk the two people away, he found himself hoping that the boy would retain some of that purity through his education. Barty was glad that full-on War was long past them, for the kid's sake. But now, he had to return to clean up the mess the Order has made.

Harry arrived at the Hospital Wing to be fussed over by Madam Pomfrey before he was released to rest in his dorm room with a prescription of Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleep Potions. He ignored Malfoy's entirely insincere exclamation of "Oh Potter! We were so worried you died at Diagon Alley when you didn't come back with us!"

He found Theo alternating between pacing and sitting on the edge of his bed. "Hey," he said by way of greeting, and Theo looked up quickly. The usually neutral expression he wore on his face gave way to surprise, then relief.

"Where did you go?" he nearly shouted. Harry shrugged.

"Got a little lost… some Order guy chased me around a bit," he explained as he placed the vials Madam Pomfrey gave him on his bedside table. When he turned back around after a moment of silence, he found Theo gaping at him.

"How… how are you still alive?"

"Someone… else… helped me," he said ambiguously. Theo continued to look at him disbelievingly. "What?" he defended, "It's true!"

"No," Theo said, shaking his head, "It's not that I don't believe you, I just can't decide if you're the luckiest or unluckiest person I know."

"A bit of both, I guess," Harry said with a self-deprecating grin.

"I can't believe all of that happened and you're… not even in the Hospital Wing," he muttered, and then he glanced up, "That 'someone else' must've been good."

"Yeah…" Harry agreed offhandedly, thinking about Marvolo.

In hindsight, it made sense how Marvolo had so much power, seemingly beyond even that of a high-ranking Death Eater; Mrs. Hogan's warning to be cautious around him; How Marvolo would act as if he was in on a private joke whenever Harry asked him questions that would have had obvious answers if Harry had known his true identity.

Harry nearly choked on air when he realised he had gotten the Dark Lord to comfort him after a nightmare during his Yule break last year.

Yule. He went to Malfoy Manor after Yule and Draco Malfoy had whispered about meeting him. Hang on. Does that mean he actually shares a brother wand with the Dark Lord? He felt his mouth fall open when he recalled Ollivander's words from over a year ago.

"We do not speak his name."

Harry picked up the vial of Calming Draught when he felt himself growing faint. How could he have been so oblivious?

How much of what Marvolo told him had been true? If he hadn't told him about such a fundamental part of his identity, was anything he said true? But what could the Dark Lord gain from a nobody Hogwarts-student like me? Harry wondered despairingly. He downed a few gulps of the potion quickly, ignoring Theo's concerned look.

"Are you all right?" Harry nodded absent-mindedly and Theo gave him an unconvinced look but changed the topic, "You should probably eat something after you take that potion," he suggested. Harry cast a quick Tempus to see the time and realised nearly the entire day had slowly passed him by, and dinner was already being served in the Great Hall.

"Yeah…" he acquiesced faintly. Harry cleared his throat, "Yeah, let's go."

They had just about settled into a couple of spaces at the Slytherin tables when the Great Hall was greeted by the unexpected sight of the morning owl hordes, each bird carrying a copy of the special evening edition of The Daily Prophet covering the day's incident. Theo collected the copy from one of the owls, giving it a few knuts for the delivery. Harry leaned over to read the article, thinking he should probably invest in a subscription with his recently-inherited money – Oh Merlin, he dragged the Dark Lord to the bank with him – as he served himself a spoonful of chicken. Theo slid it over slightly so he could read it better.

THE EVENING PROPHET

30 OCTOBER 1992

ATTACK ON DIAGON ALLEY: 12 DEAD, 49 INJURED, AND 5 MISSING. 7 ORDER MEMBERS CAPTURED! BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS ATTEMPTED

By Terrence Jinson

LONDON — An attack at the popular shopping hotspot has rocked the Wizarding Community. A series of magical explosions shook the Alley early this afternoon. This is believed to be caused by the terrorist organisation calling themselves the 'Order of the Phoenix'. As of 4 PM, 61 witches and wizards were reported injured, 12 of whom have succumbed to their injuries, and five are yet to be found. Investigations into this security breach are ongoing. The goblins of Gringotts have also reported an unsuccessful break-in into their vaults at the same time.

17 magical explosions have been recorded following preliminary investigations carried out by the Death Eater Forces for Defence (DEFence) on-site. 20 individual magical signatures belonging to unregistered persons have been detected at the site of the explosions, which experts believe are caused by the spell 'Animi Concitatione'. Victims of the blast have been known to suffer from magical burns, similar to those caused by the Fiendfyre Curse. "The Order preaches about the so-called evils of Dark magic, yet when it suits their nefarious purposes, they are unafraid to use some of the most devastating spells Dark magic has to offer upon innocent civilians in an unprovoked attack," commented one healer involved in triage operations at Diagon Alley. The healer asked not to be named for fear of retaliation from the Order.

The DEFence was present to curb the attacks and restore order in the vicinity. It is estimated that 30% of the Alley will be shut down for restoration works.

Seven known Order of the Phoenix members, including Dedalus Diggle, 54, were apprehended at the scene, after being hit with stunning spells by Death Eaters present. Their holding location is not disclosed to the public.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had organised a school trip extending from 11 AM to 4 PM for Second-Year students. Students from Gryffindor and Slytherin House were caught in the incident. Fortunately, all students were evacuated to safety and none have received serious injuries. Our team at the Daily Prophet has reached out to the Hogwarts School, but Headmaster Severus Snape has declined to make a statement.

Head Goblin Bogrod of the Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts Wizarding Bank has reported an attempted break-in amidst the chaos between 2.46 PM and 2.51 PM. "Gringotts will not publicise the details of the breach so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts employee. The bank has stated that they will be sending letters notifying all owners of affected vaults.

Other casualties were shoppers and shop owners at the Alley; Madam Mallory Malkin, 47, owner of Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, is currently receiving medical attention at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As of 4 PM, Search and Rescue operations are still ongoing.

Our team here at The Daily Prophet would like to extend our most heartfelt condolences to the victims and their families.

The Daily Prophet's detailed timeline of the incident can be found on Page 2.

"They wreaked some serious havoc there…" Theo murmured, pointing briefly at the photograph. Harry took in the moving picture of smoke rising from a semi-destroyed section of Diagon Alley.

As confused and wary as he was of Marvolo being the Dark Lord, he couldn't help but feel immensely grateful for the man that saved him from that Order maniac that was dangerous enough to be mentioned in the newspapers. Because as much as he liked to tell himself otherwise, he had had no idea how he was going to get out of that one without adding himself to the casualty count.

November 1992

A few days after the attack on Diagon Alley, an excited murmur broke out over the Great Hall at breakfast after the owls delivered the day's edition of the newspaper.

"Woah," Theo mumbled beside him, Harry gave a soft questioning hum in response, hoping the other boy would just tell him what was going on while he helped himself to some breakfast. No such luck though, as Theo said in the same reverent tone, "Look at this!"

Harry peeked at the newspaper over Theo's shoulder and couldn't quite hide his surprise (or was it excitement? Anticipation?) when he saw Marvolo taking up the front page. Though, on closer inspection, it appeared to be more the Dark Lord on the front page than Marvolo.

Harry shook himself out of his rumination about the various facets of Marvolo's identity and focused instead on what piqued Theo's interest. His heart started beating a little faster when he read the headline.

THE DAILY PROPHET

2 NOVEMBER 1992

EXCLUSIVE: INVESTIGATION COMMITTEE MEETING CHAIRED BY THE DARK LORD REVEALS ORDER MOLE IN MINISTRY!

"They've published the entire meeting! We can watch it!" Theo whispered excitedly. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Watch it?" Theo gave him a strange look.

"Have you ever picked up the newspaper?" Harry shrugged sheepishly. They got copies of The Daily Prophet everywhere, every day, but he never did find it particularly interesting. "You know how normal pictures move? The Prophet's got this special film development potion that uses stored memories as an ingredient to make the photograph replay the memory. They only use it for big stories like this one. It's pretty neat."

"Wow," Harry mumbled, somewhat awestruck. "How do you get it to work?"

"Just look at it." And both their eyes turned towards the large photograph. True enough, it came to life, and Harry watched, transfixed as the Dark Lord appeared from the side, walking to the head of the table which already held four people, none of whom were seated. There was a coat of arms looming on the wall above the Dark Lord's seat; it had a double-headed eagle with two wands gripped in its talons, and a crest with a stylised 'M' in the middle. Encircling it all was a snake eating its tail. An ouroboros if Harry recalled correctly. He returned his attention to the shifting people within the photograph.

The Dark Lord sat down elegantly, resting his arms on the table, his fingers interlaced. The others took their seats around him. One man sat slightly away from the table with a stack of parchment.

"Good evening. On October 30th, a tragedy occurred within our borders, at Diagon Alley, claiming the lives of 14 mages," began the soft voice of the Dark Lord. There was a tense silence at the table, the four other people seated there looking at anything but the man at the head of the table.

"Before we begin, I would like to extend my deepest condolences to those who have lost their friends and family in this attack. Wizarding Britain mourns with you, and I propose that we dedicate a moment of silence to honour their memory." The Dark Lord's piercing red eyes glanced to the Prophet's nervous memory-recorder.

Of course, no one in their right mind would refuse the suggestion, and when he stood, the rest took the cue from the Dark Lord to stand. The moment passed with a heavy silence. The five people resumed their seats at a gesture.

"What is going on here?" He started, eyeing those around him with an unreadable expression. "We are not at war. This was no accident." The Dark Lord toyed with the quill in front of him as he spoke, his wand lying innocuously next to his right hand. "Mages and children visit the Alley every day - we divert resources to growing our population, and now over a dozen people have been senselessly slaughtered by terrorists." He released his loose grasp on the quill as his fingertips tapped the wood of the desk irritably, the dark ring he wore on his middle finger glinting ominously.

"How could this have happened? There were DEFence patrols, there were emergency protocols. How was this crisis managed?" He demanded. He flexed the fingers of his right hand slowly in the silence. "I would like to begin with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," he stated, glancing at the man seated on his immediate right. "DEFence will corroborate," he said, lifting his left index finger ever so slightly to point at the witch at the end of the table. She nodded an affirmative, though her finger fiddled with the spectacles in her hands.

"How were the Search and Rescue operations conducted, and what is being done to help the victims?" He questioned, leaning back in his seat as he gestured impatiently for the wizard to speak, "Mr. Fudge." The pudgy, nervous man nodded jerkily.

"M-my Lord, colleagues," Cornelius Fudge, Head of the DMAC began shakily, his nerves showing plainly at the Dark Lord's continued unimpressed, vaguely irritated expression. "At 2.47 PM on October 30th, an attack was carried out by the terrorist organisation calling themselves 'The Order of the Phoenix' at Diagon Alley in London. Several deadly spells such as 'Animi Concitatione' and 'Confringo' were fired by 20 unregistered wands. These blasts caused structural damage to parts of the Alley, specifically the entrance to Knockturn Alley and along the main boulevard. DEFence arrived five minutes later, at 2.52 PM to direct civilians away from danger and provide assistance to those injured. 207 people were evacuated from the Alley while other DEFence units engaged the Order," he took a steadying breath.

"At 2.56 PM, Your Lordship arrived on the scene, causing most of the Order to flee. Anti-Disapparition and Portkey-Disabling Wards were successfully set up over the entire Alley by a task force comprising officials from my Department, the Department of Magical Transportation, and Death Eaters, two minutes later. The seven trapped Order members were apprehended within fifteen minutes," he concluded his report somewhat uneasily.

The Dark Lord let the silence fester as he noted something down on the parchment in front of him. "You have not answered my second question."

Fudge floundered for a moment, recalling the Dark Lord's second question, "Ah- yes, r-regarding My Lord's second question, St. Mungo's Hospital had sent 20 healers after a request was made by DEFence for medical aid. The first team of healers arrived on the scene at 2.55 PM and immediately began triage operations by the Leaky Cauldron. The seriously injured were immediately evacuated to St. Mungo's via the Floo Network to receive treatment. Our priority is to provide help to all affected people; yesterday evening, the Wizengamot signed a grant to set aside 65,000 galleons, and each deceased victim's family will receive 2,000 galleons, severely injured victims will receive 800 galleons, and those with minor injuries will receive 400 galleons."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Have the Search and Rescue operations concluded?"

"Operations have concluded with the five missing persons reported yesterday found. Two of whom have tragically died, and the other three currently warded in St. Mungo's." Silence resumed once again as the Dark Lord perused the parchment.

After a few beats of silence, the Dark Lord asked with a frown, "How many people were in that task force?"

"Uh- 15, My Lord. Eight ward-masters from the DMAC, five Officials from the DMT, and two Death Eaters," Fudge reported diligently.

The Dark Lord's vague look of displeasure grew ever so slightly more pronounced when he heard that information. Those seated at the table hid their discomfort admirably well even with Lord Voldemort's mounting ire. He set the quill down slowly. There was something to be said about the Dark Lord's habit of taking his own notes during meetings that served both to unnerve his guests and deter would-be liars. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the man was scrutinising every word said with no outward signs of acknowledgement.

Without looking up from the parchment placed in front of him, he questioned, "Why did it take the task force 11 minutes to set up wards over an area of-" he narrowed his eyes slightly as he gauged the rough size of Diagon Alley, "-eight hectares?"

The Head of Department appeared caught off-guard, but seemed to recover momentarily, and said, "A-All ten ward-masters have practical test scores within... within t-the 90th percentile, My L-ord."

The Dark Lord dipped his head in a languid acknowledgement of their supposed prowess, though he said slowly, "And that is fine. But it is not the answer to my question. It would be reasonable for ten Hogwarts students to take 11 minutes, not 15 highly-trained, highly-specialised mages."

The squat, middle-aged man swallowed visibly. "They are… statistically… the best ward-masters within the Ministry, My Lord-"

The Dark Lord interrupted with an impatient statement, "If you wish to look at statistics, Mr. Fudge, statistically, 13 Order members escaped persecution after killing 14 and maiming 52 of our law-abiding civilians, not to mention causing over 30% of Diagon Alley to be closed for restoration," Fudge seemed cowed by those numbers, realising he could not slide pointless numbers past Lord Voldemort.

"Do you have an answer to why it took your task force so long to establish the wards?" The Dark Lord asked.

Fudge's wide-eye look of barely disguised terror made him look rather like a house-elf that just disobeyed their master. "I- I c-cannot be sure, My Lord," he admitted, his voice just barely above a whisper.

The Dark Lord glanced up at Fudge, his expressionless face barely flickering. "You are in a meeting about the Attack on Diagon Alley, Mr. Fudge. You should be aware, especially of such anomalies from your own Department," he admonished softly. "If you 'cannot be sure', perhaps we need to find someone else that can," he continued mildly as if he weren't talking about destroying a man's career and credibility with one comment. He looked at the witch at the end of the table, gesturing with his hand for her to speak.

"What has DEFence found?" He asked tersely.

"My Lord, as the Head of the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Department has reported, the first DEFence unit arrived on the scene at 2.54 PM following an alert sent by patrols to the Head Office. A request was immediately made by the unit leader for ward-masters and healers," the witch paused a little apprehensively. "My Lord, I would like to point out that it took the DMAC a… an abnormally long time to respond. Emergency protocols dictate that Departments should be on the scene within three minutes of mobilisation, though our later investigations have shown that the task force only arrived seven minutes later — more than two times-" she stuttered to a stop when the Dark Lord cut in to address Fudge.

"Who handled the deployment of manpower?" He demanded, the hard lines of his glaring countenance making the usually proud man shrink into himself.

"I- I believe it- it was the-the uh… Deputy Head of o-our Counter-terrorism Office-"

"Give me a name."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath when those ominous words were uttered.

"W-Wilfred Perkins, My Lord…" The Dark Lord did not give much acknowledgement to the response, instead, turning to look at the witch.

"I trust DEFence will handle this appropriately?"

"Yes, My Lord. You have my word," she assured earnestly. He gave a soft hum of agreement.

"What is the situation at St. Mungo's?" He addressed the witch wearing the lime-green robes of a healer.

"Of the 52 people reported injured, 38 have received outpatient treatment while 14 are currently warded in the hospital's magical burn treatment facility. All of them are stable or improving. The most serious case is a 10-year-old boy who has severe burns after coming in direct contact with the fires of the curse, and subsequently received multiple crush-injuries from falling rubble."

The Dark Lord frowned, "Was no one watching him?" he asked.

"I was told his parents had allowed him to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies while they completed their business elsewhere when the attack happened," she reported neutrally.

"U-unfortunately, it seems that many guardians who were supposed to be watching their charges had left them unsupervised during the incident, which may have contributed to the higher injury count, My Lord," Fudge interjected, eager to prove his usefulness and astuteness.

The Dark Lord tapped his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic clack of nails hitting the wooden surface the only sound in the silence as they waited for his opinion. "No," he said at last, "It is a perfectly natural and safe practice but only if security measures and emergency protocols are in place and efficient," Fudge bowed his head slightly; the rebuke was clear. "The fault here lies largely with the Order, but the damage done would not be this severe if appropriate steps had been taken at the right time. That is your jurisdiction, Mr. Fudge. Simply because we have had relative peace for a decade does not mean you can neglect terrorism response."

"If you can resolve this critical inefficiency to a satisfactory level together with DEFence, the Minister of Magic and I will review what will be done about this incompetence. If you fail…" he paused, tilting his head slightly, "We will think about that as well," he said softly as he leaned back, though his casual demeanour did little to temper the dark undertone of his verdict. The initial look of barely-disguised terror on Fudge's face returned.

"What can you tell us about the Gringotts security breach, Mr. Mockridge?" he asked, moving on to the wizard seated on his left. The middle-aged man dipped his head in a bow of respect before he gave his report.

"The goblins maintain their independence in investigating the matter, as is their right. The spokes-goblin of the Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts has stated that the break-in is believed to be masterminded and carried out by the Order. They insist that nothing has been taken from their vaults and the compromised vaults not become public information. The Head Goblin Bogrod is open to discussing the matter further with you in private, My Lord."

The Dark Lord glanced at the man seated away from the table out of the corner of his eye, and the man dipped his head discreetly. Returning his attention to Mr. Mockridge, he nodded to the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, informing him, "I will be in contact with them directly."

"The problems brought up today must be solved with haste. This attack cannot be a prelude to more devastation. There will be a follow-up where necessary. Thank you." There was a slight commotion when the others scrambled to stand as the Dark Lord took his leave, his private-secretary following behind him.

For the rest of the day, Harry's thoughts had been occupied by the Dark Lord and Marvolo… Well, they were the same person but they certainly can't be reconciled together in Harry's mind. Theo had been slightly freaked out by his contemplative stares into the distance, though he has been politely silent about it after Harry insisted he was fine and didn't need to be brought back to the Hospital Wing for a more detailed diagnostic scan.

"You know, you should probably go to sleep. You've been on that page for the past ten minutes," Harry would have thought Hermione sounded condescending if not for having known her long enough to tell that she, too, was deeply concerned. He considered waving off her suggestion, enjoying the once-a-week study session in the library with the Ravenclaw, but felt a deep wave of fatigue when he refocused his eyes on the words of his Herbology textbook.

He gave her an apologetic smile as he agreed, standing up with his bag and books in his arm. She stood too, moving around the table to hug him. "I'm so glad you're fine. I can't believe that happened," she mumbled.

"Me too…" he whispered as she released him. He stepped away, pulling his slipping bag strap back onto his shoulder, bidding her goodbye with an agreement to meet again next week.

It was still very early when he flopped onto his bed tiredly but despite his fatigue, he found himself staring at the ceiling over half an hour after he first lied down. He shut his eyes again, changing positions, but a memory from a year ago surfaced in his mind.

"I will tell you something I learned early on. If you are unable to fall asleep, there is no point lying down— the harder you pursue sleep, the more elusive it becomes. Pick up a book, do your holiday assignments, practice what I taught you today, or better yet, uncover the source of your insomnia. The point is, there is a lot you can get done. Do not waste your time, Harry. Consider this a life lesson."

Was it ironic that the cause of his insomnia now also once gave him the cure? Harry shrugged, getting out of bed. He wasn't going to sleep until he sent someone a letter. Pulling out a sheet of parchment from the second drawer of his bedside table and extracting a quill and his bottle of ink from his bag. Leaning over on his bed to the parchment on the bedside table, he began to write.

With only forty minutes before curfew, Harry walked quickly to the Owlery. Holding out the letter to his owl, he apologised in a whisper, "Sorry girl, I forgot to bring you some treats." She nipped his fingers, prompting him to apologise again, but took the letter in her beak anyway. "Bring this to Marvolo for me?" She let him stroke her feathers gently as he promised, "You'll get those treats when you come back."

He smiled as he watched her fly off, a white speck in the night sky, glad that his mind was no longer a jumble of thoughts about Marvolo and the Dark Lord.