Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 57: Where It Belongs
On top of a hill that overlooks the village of Little Hangleton was a large old manor that no one dared to approach, as it was considered cursed.
A long time ago, it was known as the Riddle House, but its owner was presumed to have died, even though no one knew how or when.
Recently, the villagers had been seeing lights appearing in some of the second-floor rooms at night and hearing strange hissing noises.
Of course, no one dared to approach, except for Frank Bryce, the man who had once been hired to work as a gardener and caretaker.
His bones now lay at the entrance hall. It was all that was left after Nagini had him as a meal.
On the second floor, a short, bulky man wearing a ragged suit was nervously pacing around in front of a bed.
On top of the bed was a small creature that had been carefully wrapped in fabrics.
The man stopped suddenly when he heard the creature emit a sharp sound that didn't seem human.
"Master, you are awake!" The man hurried to grab a bottle with some unknown liquid inside and brought it to the creature.
"Here, you need to drink."
The creature was the size of a baby, but it was clearly something much darker and more sinister. It drank the mysterious liquid from the bottle before letting out a sigh of relief.
"I'm still feeling weak…"
"That's because… well, yesterday you slept through most of the day and didn't take your medicine," the short man explained.
"What?" The creature's face contorted with anger. "Why didn't you wake me up? I told you I must take the potion every day!"
"I-I'm so sorry, Master!" the man said in a panicked voice.
"Damn it, Wormtail. Why am I stuck with someone so useless…"
"But Master, I am the one who found you…"
"You? Pfff. I found myself, remember?" Despite its small size, the voice of the Dark Lord was still imposing.
"I helped…" Wormtail muttered.
"Any news from Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked. "I wish to secure the old man's blood as soon as it's possible."
"Yes, actually… we received a message last night. Ehm… something happened during the champion selection," Wormtail said.
"Hmm? I don't care about the tournament. Why would he bother to report something like that?" Voldemort wondered. "What did the message say?"
"Well…"
The Dark Lord frowned. "Go on and say it already! What is it?"
"Master, it's Harry Potter. He is back."
The red eyes of the pale-looking baby opened widely. "What?! Did you just say Harry Potter?!"
"Y-Yes, Master. That is what th—"
"Let me see the message. Hurry up!"
Wormtail ran to a nearby desk, grabbed a piece of parchment, and brought it back to his Master.
"Here… I wrote everything he said in here."
Voldemort looked at the piece of parchment and read its contents. His eyebrows twisted into a frown.
"How did this happen? The boy was supposed to be dead."
"That's what everyone said, Master. He disappeared four years ago, taken by some criminals from Knockturn Alley. No one ever saw him again, until yesterday."
"Obviously, everyone was wrong." Voldemort glared at the note in Wormtail's hands.
"The Goblet of Fire. The old man used it to force the boy back and tie him into a contract."
"Do we… do we do something about this?" Wormtail asked.
Voldemort's red eyes moved up. "What do you think? This changes everything!"
He lifted his tiny hand to point at the desk. "Go fetch some parchment and a quill. You will need to send him a message immediately."
"Yes, Master!" Wormtail moved as fast as he could. He brought a new parchment and a quill and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed.
Voldemort took a long moment to think about what to say next.
"We are going to require a new plan. One that will lead to me getting the blood of the Boy Who Lived. That will give me the strongest possible body."
"What should I write then?"
"Listen closely, Wormtail. And write everything I tell you."
<><><><><><><><><><>
"I'm back." Harry walked inside the shop.
"So you are…" Morgan was standing behind the counter, giving him an intense glare.
"What is it? Were you worried? Why are you giving me that face?" Harry asked.
"You have it, don't you? I can feel its presence even while it's inside your bag," Morgan said.
Harry smiled. "Indeed. I got it back." He pulled the black tome from its container and carefully placed it on the table at the center of the shop.
"Tsk… it still gives me the creeps," Morgan said as she stared at the ancient book.
Harry ignored her comment, took a seat, and opened it up. "Yes, it's just as I remember." He passed the pages.
The book was written mostly in Arabic, but there were some notes at the bottom of a few images that contained different languages.
"Ah… there it is." He found the spell he was looking for. "The binding curse."
Morgan approached with some reluctance and looked down at the page where Harry had stopped.
"That is what you used against me."
"Yes. According to the text, this curse was meant to trap something powerful and dangerous." Harry lifted his eyes for a moment.
"At the time, it seemed appropriate to use it on you."
"Because I am powerful and dangerous?" Morgan smirked.
"Take it as a compliment." Harry turned his attention back to the book.
"I need to study this spell further. With this, I will be able to free you."
"And then… what would you do with the book?" Morgan asked.
Harry closed the tome slowly, the human face on its cover fading back into lifeless leather.
"For now," he said calmly, sliding his fingers along the spine, "this book stays exactly where it belongs."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "And where is that?"
"With me, of course," Harry replied without hesitation. "Sealed, studied, and controlled. Power like this doesn't disappear just because you wish it gone. It has to be understood."
"Then hurry," Morgan whispered under her breath.
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