Chapter 23

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Harry woke up in cold sweat, the dream he'd had about the ending of the world, with a disastorous virus, that killed everyone, and slowly caught his breath back. He kept telling himself that that couldn't happen, a virus wouldn't emerge, and no one would die, not least everyone.

He tried to get back to sleep, but found he could not, as the sun was breaking through his curtains. He got up, deciding to surprise Minerva by making breakfast, and went through the plans that he had made with his aunt, Susan and Neville in his head. He couldn't help but feel as though something bad was going to happen...

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Voldemort had felt the blood wards fallen, of course he did not discover they were the blood wards until late night on the 30th of July, when the beginning of the prophecy had once more made its way into his head... "born as the seventh month dies"... he knew there was more to the prophecy! He just knew it... But he couldn't just break into the Prophecy halls in the Ministry! He'd be caught immediately... he hated to admit he was weak, but in this form he had barely any energy, nor magic, nor any way of disguising himself... he had tried to find someone to take the place of his dearest Quirrell, but he could not find anyone... until today, that is.

He was greeted by an unexpected caller, who immediately fell to his feet in worship of his master. Voldemort couldn't remember such a mere irrelevance as him, but the man explained that his name was Charles Crouch, cousin of Barty Crouch Jr, who had introduced him into the Death Eaters. He had avoided capture for some years, as he was searching for his master, until he had finally found him, in the old abandoned house Voldemort was staying in.

Charles immediately let Voldemort habilitate the back of his head, honoured to be given such a trustworthy task from his Master. Voldemort directed him to apparate immediately to the residence of one Harry James Potter... at least, where he though Harry was living.

When they arrived, Voldemort could tell something was askew. He knew the boy could feel when he was there, and there was no indication that any wizard had lived here in over a year. They knocked on the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," Crouch asked, his voice as silky smooth as chocolate. "I must say, you do look very fine this evening, may I come in? I was wishing to enquire about a small familial issue." Petunia was blushing, and let the young, charming man in straight away. She served up a cup of tea, allowing him to take a seat, while her son was shoo'ed up to his room, and Vernon was locked away in his study.

"Mrs. Dursley, or, may I call you Petunia?" She nodded, barely making eye contact. "I was curious, what happened to your nephew? I mean... I used to see him every morning on his way to school and now I have not seen him in almost a year." His hands were resting on her knee now, and he forced her to look straight into his eyes.

"Oh, him. He was picked up by some aunt of his. She said she was a friend of his parents. But he's never coming back here. So... tell me about yourself, Mr... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" Petunia scooted closer to the unknown man, desperate for attention.

"My name, Petunia, is Riddle. Tom Riddle. Some may know me better, as Voldemort." Crouch turned his head around, removing the scarf he had worn over the back of his head. Petunia fainted, her face white with shock.

"No... don't obliviate her. Take her and the two boys with us... It has been too long since we have kept prisoners. Take them to Malfoy Manor."

"As you wish. My Lord."

The house was silent.

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Harry picked up the newspaper on his birthday, the muggle one of course, which he had persuaded Minerva to get delivered to their cottage.

"VERNON, PETUNIA AND DUDLEY DURSLEY FOUND DEAD IN THEIR HOME. ONLY BONES REMAIN."

He sipped his orange juice, showing the cover to Minerva.

"Well, that's certainly one birthday present for you, Harry dear. I'm sure you'll have much more pleasant ones later dear." Harry let out a small laugh, closing the newspaper, and settling down to eat breakfast. "I do hope it is a good birthday."

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"I am back, Lord Malfoy."

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Woo another, albeit slightly shorter chapter.

Should the next chapter be a description of what happened to the durlseys... cause I lowkey wanna write that but I can't not make it grusome...

"Welcome to old Trafford it's the theatre of our dreams
Were ready to die were ready to fight
It's part of our history
The power and the glory
Oh the Stretford End will sing
As the reds go marching On On On"

Points to whoever can guess what song this is from

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