Chapter 305: Rendezvous
On the other side of the crossroads, only a short distance away from Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter and his godfather, Sirius Black, were shopping for the new school term.
They were buying the usual necessities—new textbooks, parchment, and a fresh set of robes.
Harry had grown taller again.
His old robes no longer fit.
---
Since every Dementor in Britain had been secretly brought under Malfoy's control through contracts and a steady supply of "food," they now lurked quietly in the shadows instead of serving the Ministry.
As a result, Umbridge had no Dementors available to attack Privet Drive.
Nor did she have any reason to.
She now stood at the peak of political power and no longer needed to curry favor with her superiors.
The original course of events had completely changed.
Back then, she had targeted Harry because he insisted on spreading the "false rumor" that Lord Voldemort had returned, creating panic and undermining the Ministry.
She had needed to flatter those above her.
But now...
Even she had accepted the fact that Lord Voldemort had truly returned.
In fact, it was precisely because of that crisis that she had managed to rise to power.
Her appointment as Minister had been possible largely for that reason.
Many people believed the wizarding world could not afford continued political instability.
A divided Ministry would never be able to resist Voldemort.
From the moment Cornelius Fudge stepped down, Britain's political landscape had changed dramatically.
A change no one had foreseen.
Because of that...
The Boy Who Lived enjoyed a relatively peaceful summer.
---
Sirius occasionally visited Privet Drive.
Every time, he deliberately waved an old Daily Prophet wanted poster in front of the Dursleys.
The moving photograph showed him with long, filthy hair and a wild beard, laughing maniacally.
It was terrifying enough on paper.
Seeing the real man standing outside their front door...
Was infinitely worse.
Especially when that "dangerous murderer" also happened to be a wizard.
The expressions on Uncle Vernon and the rest of the Dursley family were truly priceless.
Harry's holiday became much happier because of it.
Still, under Dumbledore's instructions, Sirius never took Harry too far from Privet Drive.
Harry still needed the protection provided by his mother's blood magic in case Voldemort attempted to kill him.
Overall, though...
It had been a pleasant summer.
Dudley no longer dared to bully him.
The thousand Galleons Harry had received also meant he no longer needed to worry about money.
Sirius himself was extremely wealthy and would never have hesitated to support Harry.
Even so...
Harry preferred spending his own money.
---
The only unpleasant part of the holiday...
Was his scar.
The headaches were becoming increasingly frequent.
And increasingly painful.
Many ordinary nights, Harry would wake suddenly from nightmares, drenched in cold sweat.
His pajamas were often soaked through.
Without wearing his glasses, he still saw vivid scenes before his eyes.
Dark stone walls.
Cold water dripping steadily from cracks in the rock.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Everything felt unbelievably real.
Sometimes...
A gigantic python lay coiled upon a black stone platform, resting quietly.
Then it would suddenly open its cold yellow eyes.
Its body would twist silently before striking down an unsuspecting insect or crawling slowly across the damp ground.
The strangest part...
Was that Harry often felt as though he was the snake.
He longed for blood.
Longed to bite.
Longed to kill.
Longed for cruelty itself.
It was as though such instincts had been engraved into his very soul.
Those visions belonged to the place where Voldemort had once hidden.
A desolate cave.
A place where he had slept for years.
---
But halfway through the summer...
The dreams changed.
Instead of a cave...
Harry found himself inside an elegant room.
A luxurious guest room.
In one corner stood an exquisitely crafted bed draped with dark green curtains.
Several mahogany chairs surrounded a finely made table.
Upon it rested an elegant magical lamp.
Though unlit, its strange white lampshade still emitted a faint glow.
The polished base reflected the light beautifully.
Another corner contained an ornate bookshelf that seemed more decorative than practical.
Everywhere were priceless magical antiques.
A pure gold clock hung upon one wall.
Abstract magical paintings decorated the room.
Elegant silver ornaments filled the empty shelves.
On another wall...
Several enormous black serpents had been carved into the stone.
Their bodies intertwined, mouths open, fangs bared, looking almost alive.
Anyone who had visited Malfoy Manor would immediately recognize it.
It was one of the manor's private guest rooms, reserved only for its most distinguished visitors.
---
Today's dream had been even stranger.
Harry had awakened from an afternoon nap with a start.
The final image remaining in his mind...
Was Diagon Alley.
The urge to come there immediately had been almost irresistible.
Coincidentally...
School was about to begin.
So Sirius had brought him here today.
Before leaving home, Harry had already sent Hedwig with letters inviting Ron and Hermione to meet them in Diagon Alley.
They intended to enjoy the last days of summer together.
Without the Dementor hearing...
There had never been any reason for Harry to visit the Order of the Phoenix.
Besides...
The Order's headquarters had almost certainly changed.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was no longer suitable after ownership of the Black family estate had changed.
---
"Harry!"
A familiar voice suddenly called out.
Harry turned.
Ron was waving enthusiastically from the opposite side of the street.
After an entire summer apart...
Both boys had grown noticeably taller.
"Long time no see!"
Ron hurried over and hugged Harry tightly.
"Mum's been asking about you all summer."
Harry immediately pictured Mrs. Weasley's warm smile.
She had treated him like one of her own children for years.
She had even attended the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament as his family representative.
"Hello, Sirius!"
Ron waved cheerfully.
His confidence was noticeably stronger than before.
Becoming a Prefect had clearly boosted his self-esteem.
Neither Fred nor George had ever received that honor.
"Hello, Ron."
A faint smile appeared on Sirius's usually serious face.
"Oh, right!"
Ron suddenly remembered something and eagerly produced an envelope.
"I'm a Prefect now!"
"Look!"
Harry accepted the appointment letter before glancing at the brand-new gold-and-red Prefect badge Ron had just purchased.
"Congratulations."
He smiled sincerely.
Still...
He couldn't help feeling a little envious.
He had always believed he'd performed fairly well over the years.
Why hadn't he been chosen?
Maybe...
His Potions grades were simply too poor.
That had to be the reason.
Immediately, Snape's pale, gloomy face surfaced in his mind.
Along with those cold eyes filled with unmistakable hatred.
Snape never merely disliked him.
Teaching Harry had always felt more like torture.
Then again...
Ron wasn't exactly brilliant at Potions either.
Snape despised Gryffindor as a whole, and Ron had often suffered because of it.
Then what about Hermione?
Since Ron had become a Prefect...
Surely Hermione had as well.
Her grades were practically flawless.
Subjects Harry and Ron struggled with were effortless for her.
She never settled for merely passing.
She pursued perfection.
A brief trace of jealousy crossed Harry's mind.
Then disappeared.
---
"Hi!"
"Harry, Ron..."
"Oh—and Sirius!"
A cheerful girl's voice interrupted them.
The three turned around.
Hermione stood behind Harry, smiling as she lightly patted his shoulder.
Today she wore a blue-and-white checked blouse with a square neckline and a black polka-dot skirt.
Compared to her usual practical appearance, today's outfit looked much more relaxed and youthful.
In only a few days, everyone would once again be wearing Hogwarts robes.
This was her last chance to enjoy ordinary clothes.
She had grown taller.
The childishness on her face had gradually faded.
Her eyes seemed calmer and more mature.
Perhaps studying Occlumency had changed her in subtle ways.
Only one thing remained exactly the same.
Her slightly untidy chestnut curls.
---
"Looks like everyone's here."
Sirius looked around before smiling.
"How about we get something to drink?"
Then he quickly added,
"Of course, you three should stay away from alcohol."
The group laughed before heading toward the nearest pub.
The Leaky Cauldron.
The old inn remained just as cramped and untidy as ever.
Despite its appearance, many witches and wizards still came because the drinks were excellent.
The four pushed open the weathered wooden door.
Inside...
The lighting was dim.
Only flickering candlelight illuminated the room.
The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of sweaty patrons.
Waiters hurried between crowded tables carrying overflowing trays.
Eventually they found a table that was relatively clean and sat down.
---
As usual, everyone began sharing stories from their summer holidays.
After hearing how Sirius had terrified the Dursleys with his wanted poster, Ron burst into laughter and raised his glass.
"Now that's worth celebrating!"
he declared.
After everyone clinked glasses...
Ron suddenly lowered his voice.
"...So..."
"How's You-Know-Who doing now?"
Sirius frowned.
After what had happened during the Triwizard Tournament...
He had become far more protective of Harry.
His godson had nearly died.
"That's not something you children should concern yourselves with."
"We adults will deal with it."
He still instinctively hoped they could stay far away from such dangers.
"Malfoy's absolutely despicable!"
Ron slammed his hand onto the grimy tabletop.
Grease immediately covered his palm.
He grimaced in disgust and hurriedly tried to wipe it off.
"Scourgify."
Hermione casually flicked her wand.
The grease vanished instantly.
She looked at Ron helplessly.
"Sometimes I honestly wonder whether you're really a wizard."
Then she turned toward Harry.
"By the way..."
"Has your scar been hurting lately?"
Sirius immediately looked over as well.
"That's right."
"How has it been recently?"
Though he cared deeply for Harry, Sirius wasn't nearly as observant as Hermione.
"Yeah..."
Harry gently touched the lightning-shaped scar.
"It's been happening more and more often."
His thoughts drifted back to the dream he'd had earlier that afternoon.
Professor Dumbledore was right...
Hermione thought silently.
Once school started, she would have to explain everything to Harry again.
His mental connection with Voldemort was becoming increasingly dangerous.
He had to remain vigilant.
Based on what Dumbledore had already told her...
The Headmaster would likely be away from Hogwarts for an extended period.
The Ministry's reasoning sounded perfectly reasonable.
For the safety of the entire British wizarding community, Dumbledore was temporarily accepting another position and would return only after the crisis had passed.
Even most members of the Board of Governors had accepted that explanation.
Politics...
Was ultimately the art of compromise.
Even Dumbledore had his limitations.
Those were all things Dumbledore had privately shared with Hermione.
They would become reality once the new school year began.
What will happen now?
Hermione wondered quietly.
The future looked anything but optimistic.
She had tried learning Occlumency throughout the summer.
But she'd barely scratched the surface.
How could someone at her level possibly teach Harry?
Her thoughts gradually wandered elsewhere.
And then...
Draco Malfoy.
Where was he now?
Was he still fleeing from the Ministry?
Had he truly defected to Voldemort?
If not...
Why hadn't Professor Dumbledore stopped him that day?
During the chaos in the Great Hall, everyone had been focused entirely on Malfoy and his hostages.
Even Hermione herself had been stunned.
Yet...
For some reason...
The feeling seemed strangely familiar.
As though she had witnessed the exact same scene somewhere before.
She couldn't explain why.
While everyone else had been watching Malfoy...
Hermione had looked at Dumbledore instead.
When hostages were taken, most people would show panic, anger, or fear.
But none of those emotions had appeared in Dumbledore's eyes.
Perhaps he had simply hidden them to reassure everyone else.
Even so...
Hermione trusted her own judgment.
The old Headmaster had looked...
Certain.
The ambiguous answer he had given her in his office only deepened the mystery.
She simply couldn't believe that Professor Dumbledore would have acted so irresponsibly.