The headline blared: "Sirius Black Escapes Azkaban!"
Azkaban, an island fortress far beyond the reach of Eurasia in the frigid North Sea, was guarded by Dementors. Even the newspapers could only stammer, "Escaped Azkaban for unknown reasons," unable to fathom the impossible feat.
But what truly jolted Lupin wasn't merely that someone had escaped, but that Sirius had escaped.
"Sirius..." he muttered, crestfallen, before continuing to read. Sirius Black… Death Eater… murderer of heroes… blah, blah, blah… reward: eight thousand Galleons!
Luckily, Lupin thought, Tom isn't here, or I'd be tempted to say, "Heh heh heh… Sirius, don't blame me, you know I'm short on cash lately."
Eight thousand Galleons was a king's ransom. The average wizard's monthly wage hovered between sixty and eighty Galleons, while even an Auror scraped by on 140. Eight thousand Galleons equaled roughly ten years of a common wizard's labor.
Never mind Sirius Black's crazy antics, he mused. Let's see what else is here.
Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord? Reward: one hundred million Galleons!!!
What in the world?
One hundred million Galleons amounted to approximately five hundred million pounds sterling, or roughly 4.6697 billion RMB! And this was 1993; the purchasing power was astronomical.
However, considering the target was the Dark Lord, the very specter that had once plunged the entire wizarding world into terror, this bounty… seemed almost reasonable.
Fudge certainly thought so. He hadn't considered the bounty on Tom too high; he'd never intended anyone to collect it. After all, he doubted anyone could.
...
Lupin stared at the Daily Prophet for a long, silent moment before finally folding it away, pushing open the door of the Leaky Cauldron, and stepping inside.
...
Meanwhile, across town, in the dead of night on a quiet Privet Drive, inside a brightly lit house…
Vernon Dursley had just returned home, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. Hearing him, Harry hurried over.
"Um… Uncle," Harry began, trailing after Vernon Dursley, "it's about Hogwarts… Hogsmeade… I need my guardian's permission to visit. Could you sign this autograph?"
Vernon Dursley hadn't been listening. He'd only registered that Harry wanted something signed, a glance at the paper in Harry's hand with "something written on it."
"We have a guest tonight. If you behave, I'll sign it."
Vernon Dursley couldn't care less about the paper or why Harry needed it signed. He only knew that if signing it would keep Harry quiet and out of trouble, then it was worth it.
Harry's thoughts mirrored his uncle's. He didn't care about the guest or what was required of him; he'd do anything for that signature.
Seeing Harry's eagerness, Vernon Dursley said nothing more and went straight to the living room.
Watching his retreating figure, Harry quietly celebrated.
Finally! Hogsmeade Village!
He had heard Malfoy and Ron Weasley going on and on about the fun, the food, and the novelties. Since Hogsmeade was only open to third-year students, he had been eagerly awaiting this. Now the moment was at hand.
"Yes!"
Harry ran upstairs to his room, buzzing with excitement.
...
Two or three hours later, Harry came downstairs and saw the "guest" Vernon Dursley had mentioned.
She was a plump woman with short blond hair, dressed somewhat younger than her age.
That wasn't the problem. The problem was… Harry recognized her. It was Vernon Dursley's sister, a woman with a vicious temper and an even sharper tongue.
Why her?
Harry sighed. He took a deep breath to force himself to calm, then forced a stiff smile as he entered the living room.
The next few hours stretched into an eternity. The old woman treated him like he wasn't human; more kindly put, like a house-elf.
The Dursleys and their guest sat down for dinner while Harry served tea, poured water, and washed dishes.
The old woman ate while constantly insulting Harry, but he remained impassive. Even as a prospective second-in-command of the new generation of Death Eaters, with many followers at his beck and call, his years of honing "endurance" skills were still formidable.
Seeing Harry's lack of reaction displeased the old woman, and she turned to berate Harry's parents.
This time, Harry couldn't remain unfazed. His expression hardened, and his movements slowed noticeably.
But reason still reminded him to keep calm, because he still needed Vernon Dursley's signature.
In fact, he thought, Tom's signature would be just as good; Tom cares about me and wouldn't refuse such a small favor.
And none of the Hogwarts professors, not even Dumbledore, would question Tom's signature, even if Tom wasn't his "actual" guardian.
But Harry didn't want to burden Tom. If Tom signed his "guardian's" autograph, wouldn't people gossip? Wouldn't the other Death Eaters think he was being favored?
There it is again, he thought, worrying over nothing. Harry forced himself to keep his temper in check.
But the reckless old woman wasn't satisfied and continued, "And another thing, the lousy school that little brat goes to is unheard of. I've never even heard of it. And the professors there are probably all weirdos… Hey! That green-eyed teacher you told me about last time, wasn't his name Tom? Eww… how can someone look so strange…"
Before she could finish, she felt a chill down her spine and a sudden, inexplicable unease.
She had a bad feeling, but couldn't explain why.
Just as the old woman was puzzling over it, Harry finally snapped.
"Shut up! I'm telling you… shut up!!!"
Harry slammed the plate on the floor. Whoever wanted to wash this junk could wash it. Then he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the old woman.
"Avada Kedavra…"
A last shred of sanity gave Harry pause. He then cast a minor, but still evil, spell, causing the old woman to frantically spit out slugs.
A huge pile of slimy slugs landed on the table, and the Dursleys recoiled in disgust.
Vernon Dursley tried to calm the old woman, but he seemed lost, merely patting her back in a feeble attempt at comfort.
Seeing this, Harry regained a measure of his composure. He knew he couldn't stay there any longer.
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