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Dudley, who was usually a bright and cheerful young man, looked haggard, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept well for days, and his face appeared drawn. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't home. It was four in the afternoon, and normally, Aunt Petunia would be in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and starting dinner.
"What happened?" Harry asked, closing the door behind him as he walked towards Dudley with a puzzled expression.
"Did you have nightmares? And where's Aunt Petunia? I was actually craving her German pork knuckles after all these months of seafood. I'm a bit tired of it."
"Dad went to France a few days ago for a business deal, and Mom went with him. But that's not the issue—Harry, there's something really wrong with this house!" Dudley hurriedly grabbed Harry's arm and began pulling him upstairs.
"If you hadn't come back today, I definitely wouldn't have slept here tonight. It's terrifying! You don't know—I haven't dared to sleep at night these past few days. Some kind of ghost has invaded our house! Every night, around eight or nine, these creepy sounds start up. I searched the whole house and finally found—"
Dudley swallowed, looking a little pale. "I found a puddle of blood in your bedroom, with rat fur mixed in. That ghost must've eaten a rat in there! If it eats a rat today, it could eat me tomorrow!"
"Not even my signed Carl Zaar boxing gloves can help me sleep soundly anymore. My fists might be able to knock out a person, but they're useless against a ghost! This thing is driving me insane!"
Dudley seemed to feel a little better after pouring out his worries. In this moment, he was grateful his family had a wizard on hand. He wasn't one to believe in God—no image of a girl with three-meter-long legs or an elderly priest with a head full of white hair could make him feel secure. Dudley was a materialist when it came to certain things.
"Don't worry; I'm here now," Harry said, patting Dudley reassuringly on the shoulder. Ghosts certainly existed—Hogwarts had dozens of them drifting through its halls. These "undead" beings couldn't be seen by Muggles. Only those with magical power, like wizards and Squibs, could see them. Muggles, however, couldn't.
"But this doesn't sound like a ghost. Ghosts can't touch people. If they pass through you, you'll just feel a chill, like taking an ice-cold bath. They certainly don't eat rats. Even if that ghost were a cat in its previous life, it wouldn't be able to catch a rat now."
Harry opened his bedroom door and immediately spotted a dried bloodstain on the floor. Spots of dark red stretched from the area in front of his bed to the closet. Just as Dudley had described, there were bits of fur mixed in—white strands against the dried blood, looking very much like they had come from a large white rat.
"Check around the room and see if there are any ghosts—but don't try to hurt them," Harry murmured.
"Who are you talking to?" Dudley asked nervously, his skin prickling with goosebumps as he watched Harry seemingly address empty air. Dudley was starting to wonder if the person standing before him was really Harry. This strange behavior was making him uneasy.
"Quit overthinking it." Harry guessed what Dudley was imagining and gave him an awkward smile. "I have a creature called an Obscurial. Honestly, I'm not exactly great at dealing with ghosts. They don't interact with the physical world, and magic is mostly ineffective against them. If there is a ghost here, I'll have to rely on my Obscurial."
"Come out and say hello to Dudley. But keep your energy contained, and don't scare my cousin," Harry ordered.
A dark mist seeped from Harry's body, solidifying into a shadowy figure about the same height as Harry.
"Holy crap! No wonder they used to burn witches at the stake in the Middle Ages! Magic like this is downright creepy!" Despite preparing himself, Dudley was still terrified by the menacing-looking figure before him. Even though its chaotic and ominous aura had been carefully restrained, the darkness of its nature was unmistakable.
"Burning witches, honestly, is mostly ineffective," Harry said with a smirk. "With a simple fireproofing charm, they're safe from flames, and wizards can Apparate away in a second. Unless someone catches them off guard with a taser, it's almost impossible for a wizard to be taken down by ordinary people."
If the Fat Friar were here, he'd surely give Harry a good talking-to, muttering about "young folks ambushing an old man like me who's been around for fifty years" or something like that.
The Obscurial dispersed into a cloud of dark mist, sending a chill through the air as it swept quickly through the house, checking each room before slipping back into Harry.
"No ghosts—at least, not right now."
"But, Dudley, you mentioned that it appears every night around eight or nine, right?"
"Yeah, exactly! It shows up around eight or nine, disappears after a bit, then reappears for a short while around eleven or twelve, and again at three or four in the morning," Dudley replied, nodding vigorously. "Every time it comes, I hear sounds like branches snapping, crackling, or popping. I've almost fallen asleep a few times, only to be startled awake. After that, I can't even think about sleeping."
"Well, let's wait a bit then. It's only a few hours." Harry glanced at the clock and then turned to leave the room.
"What do you want for dinner? What's left in the kitchen? I'll whip something up for you—I bet you haven't had a proper meal in a while."
Harry headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a half-cleaned lamb. Without a second thought, he got to work breaking the bones and preparing a proper pulled lamb dish for Dudley.
As the rich aroma of meat filled the kitchen, Dudley, who'd been on edge, gradually began to relax. Soon, the rhythmic sound of his snoring floated from the living room, and after days of poor sleep, he was fast asleep before the meal was even served.
Minutes ticked by. Not wanting to wake Dudley, Harry left him a large portion of lamb ribs and a lamb leg. Bored, he sat in the kitchen, quietly picking his teeth and reading as he waited. Finally, at a quarter past eight, a faint but distinct crackling sound echoed through the house. Instantly alert, Harry sprang to his feet, gripping his ebony wand tightly.
"I really need to learn the Anti-Disapparition Jinx," he thought as he quickly bounded up the stairs. Reaching his bedroom, he kicked the door open. The sharp scent of blood, tinged with hints of herbs, hit him as he stepped in—and then, he saw the uninvited guest for himself!
(End of Chapter)v