"Look at his name!" Uncle Vernon grunted, "Tom? His parents didn't bother to put their hearts into it, I bet there are a million people with that name all over the UK, there are Toms everywhere, the people you meet at work, the salesmen, the football players, and the homeless bums..."
He muttered under his breath as if using it to bury the increasingly bland-tasting food.
This helped Harry, as he had just dropped his fork with a shaky hand, leaving a stain on the clean dishcloth, and it diverted Aunt Petunia's attention away from him before she could throw a disgusted look over. Harry picked up his fork quickly, making up his mind to leave as soon as he had finished eating.
The newscaster dutifully reported -
"... original hotline will be disabled ..." Uncle Vernon began to comment vehemently again, "Where's the picture? What does he look like? And the bounty!" He growled, seemingly annoyed that he was missing out on an extra income.
"He's been caught." Harry pointed out dryly.
He thought that if he knew what the name stood for, he probably wouldn't have this attitude; no, he didn't even need to mention that the name had once belonged to Voldemort; just letting him know that this was a dark wizard with no moral compass, the leader of a criminal gang, would be enough to scare the guts out of the scowling Uncle Vernon.
"I don't need you to remind me!" Uncle Vernon yelled at Harry...
"There's no hotline." Aunt Petunia said abruptly, as always, with a sharp sense for secrecy and gossip.
"What?" Uncle Vernon asked, flabbergasted.
"There's no hotline, I've never seen it mentioned on ... TV, and," Aunt Petunia frowned, "I've never heard of that name either."
Harry understood exactly what she meant, she wouldn't let any gossip go easily and a murderer was rather an exciting topic, an opportunity to comment on the existing law and order would immediately make her a big deal at the neighbourhood afternoon tea sessions.
Harry looked at the announcer, he interpreted it differently, perhaps it was a secret signal from the wizards to tell their fellow wizards hiding in the Muggle community that the war was over ... He mentally gave credit to the person who came up with the idea, because the name 'Voldemort' was not supposed to appear on a Muggle TV show. It was much safer to replace the name with 'Tom Riddle', and with Rita Skeeter's continuous coverage, it was no longer a secret that Voldemort had used this name in his youth.
He mused about it on his mind and at some point, the table fell silent as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stared at him in unison.
Harry was confused and wondered how he had upset them this time, when the TV news gave him the answer -
"... Some ornithologists have speculated that the unusual behaviour of owls may be linked with the Earth's magnetic field shifts, and it is known that this is not the first time this has happened, as far back as fifteen years ago ..."
Aunt Petunia drew a cold breath, and Uncle Vernon's little eyes bulged hard as the fork in his hand was bent with a single squeeze.
"I'm done eating." Harry said quickly, putting his cutlery down and getting up from his chair.
"Don't try to leave, we need an explanation, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted.
"There's nothing-"
"There is!" Dudley suddenly interjected, glaring with a pair of small eyes that he inherited from his father, "I heard it all," he pointed his fat finger at Harry, who had to look closely to spot the fork held in that hand.
"-in his room, there's always the sound of wings flapping and birds hooting at night."
"That's an owl!"
" So it was really you who did that-"
Harry was secretly angry. "Well," he tried his best to calm himself down, "something big did happen in the wizarding world, Voldemort fell," he gestured to the television, "and that was him they were talking about just now, Tom Riddle, that was his name when he was at school."
Without waiting for their reaction, Harry bolted upstairs in quick strides.
Maybe he should tell them, Harry thought as he pushed open the door to his room, but he was too busy to think about it at the moment, besides what could happen if he did? Would they actually feel happy?
The bedroom looked like a mess, with a lot of stuff scattered around and very little room to even step on.
It is a sight that would make Aunt Petunia scream if she laid her eyes on it, but she hasn't been here for a long time, and she tries her best not to call Harry by his name if she doesn't have to. So Harry peacefully made a mess of his room as he glanced through the window, Sirius was coming home late these days.
Of course, his Godfather was happily going around with his old partner catching dark wizards that had slipped through the net, so how could he have time to care about him? Harry wondered sullenly when Sirius would realize that he was in the way between Remus and Tonks ...
Hedwig pecked at the cage as Harry bent down and opened the cage door, Hedwig came out and spread her wings, flying like a ghost out of the window into the deep night. He moved the cage and picked up a small box from the floor in his hand.
It is filled with unfolded letters, pressed together, and arranged in chronological order. The top one belonged to Hermione, who had sent it yesterday.
Harry sat down in his chair and started reading from the middle, the contents of the top were already familiar to him.
"... We went to Norway as a family, the weather was hot most of the time over here and the salmon was particularly delicious, I am afraid to dip into the sea, the waves were a bit high, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to restrain myself from using my magic. If you ever travel here, make sure to pack toiletries and a heavy coat, it's somewhat cooler if it rains ..."
"A letter from your friend?"
Harry jerked his head up to see Dudley's fat body blocking the doorway, he seemed to attempt a gesture of pointing his chin at the letter in Harry's hand, but apart from making his triple fat chin more visible, it also blocked his already small eyes.
"Nothing to do with you."
Harry said under his breath, as he strutted past the owl cage, stacked books, Hogwarts school robes, and old clothes as he made his way forward to close the door to his room. A flash of puzzlement crossed his mind; Dudley had avoided this room before, just like his mum and dad had.
But Dudley blocked the door with one hand and Harry's hand was left motionless on the doorknob, and it took him a moment to realize that his cousin had practised boxing and that his broad physique wasn't all just a fat - but it might take Dudley a lifetime to show off the muscles that wrapped up inside the fat.
Harry glared at him, and inwardly restrained the thought of threatening him with magic. But if Dudley suddenly went brain-dead and tried to pick up the hobby he had when he was in primary school, Harry would have absolutely no advantage in terms of size.
At that point, Dudley bent down - his left hand still firmly held on the door, the bending action was more physically demanding for him - and picked up a sheet of parchment from the floor, "The Mysteries of the Patronus --by Harry Potter, you intend to write a book? Like Gilderoy Lockhart did?"
"Give me that back!" Harry said irritably, "I'm different from that liar! Wait - how do you know -"
He stared at Dudley with a shocked look on his face.
He had no idea when Dudley had gotten involved in his life in the other world, it felt like people he had spent a decade with, like the Dursleys, like Mrs. Figg, had suddenly confessed to him that they are wizards ...
That is ridiculous. There had to be a reason, and it probably stemmed from himself. With a flash of insight, Harry suddenly remembered something, and he strutted over to the cupboard, knocking a few quills and ink bottles in the process, but Harry didn't notice at all as he yanked open the wardrobe and tossed aside his dirty clothes, his hand probing into a slightly deeper drawer with a missing shelf - it was empty.
"You took my books?" Harry said through clenched teeth as he turned back around, a long-suppressed anger erupted at the idea of his privacy being snooped on. He thought unpleasantly about his childhood: he didn't have a single decent toy in his hand, everything he had was Dudley's leftovers. Moreover, he had to avoid Dudley at all costs, and if he saw anything, he would either cry to Aunt Petunia and ask for his toys back, preferring to throw them away, or he would simply snatch them from Harry's hands and crush them with his foot.
The only consolation was that Dudley could never able to get into the cupboard he had lived in back then, as he couldn't squeeze in when he was six, which led Harry to hoard a few broken toys like a house elf.
By the time Harry reacted, the wand had appeared in his hand in a flash and was pressed against Dudley's neck. The tip of the wand glowed with dangerous red light and Dudley's face brimmed with fear, his neck craning back in a fluid motion, his fat toes rising on tiptoe like a crappy ballerina.
"Don't - you can't - use magic - outside the school - "
"I don't care!" Harry squeezed a few words out of his teeth, "I don't care, do you understand?" He was seriously considering whether or not to cast a hex on Dudley, he had seen a hex in the Half-Blood Prince's textbook that would make toenails grow fiercely, but then Harry's mood worsened at the thought of Snape.
"Normally you'd never like to come over here, I should have figured ... you were very out of sorts this summer." Harry took a breath, "Oh yeah, you stole my books, Lockhart ... and that comic ... You like the idea of knowing magic now, don't you? Tell me, what do you want from me this time?"
Dudley seemed unable to catch his breath and his face was suffocated, his hand tried to push his wand away, but with a few sparks sprouting from the wand restlessly, he was too frightened to move his hand altogether.
Harry calmed down a little.
He took two steps back and pulled his wand out of Dudley's second chin, the tip of which pointed at the ground. His first thought was crap, Dudley would squeal, but on second thought, that seemed fine, Harry stared at the messy room, it was the perfect time for him to pack his bags and move overnight to the house Sirius had rented.
Now that Voldemort had been caught, Harry didn't think he would be in any further danger, so it didn't really seem to be much of a loss if the protection magic failed, right? As soon as the thought appeared, it took root in Harry's head and quickly grew into a huge tree.
Dudley finally reacted.
He slowly thrust his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled a few notes from it, and Harry stared, for a brief moment believing he had discovered Dudley's true purpose - had come over to show off how much pocket money he got. But Harry quickly thought of something. He looked at Dudley, who was struggling to speak, and a strange feeling flooded his head.
"I'm - buying - money -"
"You're going to fork out money to buy something? Something from me? To buy what?"
Dudley opened his mouth, his face flushed, and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak.
"Bee-bee-"
"Fizzing Whizzbees?"
"And, and pe-"
"Pepper Imps?"
"Diddykins~ - the TV show's on - it's your favourite - -"
Aunt Petunia's shout from the living room broke the silence between the two men and Dudley made a quick exit as if Harry was chasing after him chanting hexes, and he stood in the entrance with a startled look on his face and shouted downstairs, "Got it - I'll be right down."
Then he turned his head, as if drawing enough courage from his mother now, and he stared at Harry's forehead for a moment.
"Is what that comic book says true? You were mentioned in that, the Great and Powerful Potter?"
"Yeah, the Great and Powerful Potter." Harry repeated dryly.
Dudley disappeared from his sight. The stairs let out an unbearable groan and Harry froze for a few seconds, and strode forward to close the door with a slam. He locked the door behind him for reassurance and sat back in his chair, and stared at the messy room.
He remembered that Dudley hadn't returned the books and certainly hadn't left any money, so he was just pretending? Harry thought with mild bitterness, but he was a good businessman and on track to inherit his dad's position.
He imagined what a middle-aged Dudley would look like, a complete replica of Uncle Vernon, at best much bulkier and with thicker fingers, he had heard that Dudley was playing baseball, but Harry had no expectations that he would achieve much in that area. This contradicted Aunt Petunia's opinion, and one of them was definitely wrong.
Harry stood up and picked the parchment from the floor, the spilled ink bottle had smudged the first few sheets of parchment beyond recognition, but Harry wasn't that worried, he was almost done memorizing what was on it. This is his own book, one that he might publish later, and Harry seemed patient enough to describe it carefully word by word.
Speaking of which, Harry hadn't thought about how to publish it at all.
Maybe he should ask Professor Hap? But he dismissed the idea, he really didn't want to contact Professor Hap or Headmaster Dumbledore right now, he had heard the full prophecy from Sirius and knew his destiny: it implied one had to die at the hands of the other because both of them couldn't live at the same time, only one could survive ...
At that point, a strong hope flared up in Harry's heart - if only one could survive, it would be him, wouldn't it? Because Voldemort had been caught. Apparently, Sirius thought so too, so when Harry asked, he readily told about it to Harry.
But Harry knew better; he is a Horcrux, a part of Voldemort's lifeline.
Sirius didn't know about the Horcrux that well, he was excluded from the whole truth, something Harry had confirmed over and over again, he detected no worry in Sirius about this whole thing, other than a slight twinge of uncertainty about his fate, or maybe Headmaster Dumbledore was also trying to find a way to keep him alive?
Harry didn't dare ask this question, he was already prepared to die with reluctance and didn't want to build hope and crush it a second time. He could only wait, if they - Professor Hap or Headmaster Dumbledore - had worked out something, they would certainly tell him.
Swoosh.
An owl flew in through the window, Harry thought it was Hedwig, but it was a different dusky owl that entered. It circled the room in disgust and barely found itself a place to land, standing on the windowsill and raising its right leg.
Harry walked over and unwrapped the large square envelope.
He froze for a moment when he saw the Ministry of Magic logo and the symbol of the Wizardry Examination Authority.
He had completely forgotten all about the O.W.Ls exam results.
At the same time, several things are happening near simultaneously -
Felix excusing himself from the house of his close friend from the orphanage; Dumbledore receiving a notice in a foreign country after a busy day: about a mysterious disappearance of Gellert Grindelwald, presumably a prison break; and an unexpected arrival of someone entering Privet Drive and renting a house nearby.
"Old man, are you planning to settle in for a long time?"
"Unfortunately, I have other commitments, and I'll be staying here only about a month long. After that, I'll be meeting a few people, some old friends, and a pen pal I've never had the chance to meet ... Speaking of which, this pen pal of mine is wonderfully witty and unique, the majority of my trip is to hopefully talk to him in person ..."
For the sake of premium rent, the landlord made no comment.
"By the way ... does the Dursleys live around here?"
"That's right, are you related to them?" The landlord asked curiously, "Haven't heard them mention you at all."
"No." Grindelwald said in a soft tone. He appeared to be in much better shape now, his cheeks remained thin, but he was not only skin and bones anymore, and he looked like an elderly gentleman in his fine, elegant clothes.
With a modest smile, he said, "I've simply heard that pen pal mention the name of this family's child often - he's a school teacher, and frankly, my ears are getting calloused."
" Do you mean Dudley Dursley?"
"The other one," Grindelwald said gently, " I think his name is Harry Potter."
------------
#Farhaan Talati and #Chance Chase, Thanks for all your love and support.
Read 50 days or 100 chapters in advance on P@treon. If you have some extra pocket money, Support me at P@treon: www.p@treon.com/Crazy_Cat.
Happy Reading!!!