Baton Rouge

- 30 -

Draco began to search for Potter the next morning.

The clouds had cleared and the streets of the small fishing village only glistened slightly damp, while the morning sun was already reflected in the waves of the sea.

Fowey might well have been worth a visit for fun if he hadn't been here for the very man the whole wizarding world called The Undesirable. But that was exactly why Draco was now standing in the shade of a large tree across the street, watching a little cottage.

Finding the hideout had been almost ridiculously easy. After the landlady of the boardinghouse where Draco was staying had finally scribbled the address on a small piece of paper, he had immediately retreated to his room. Of course, there had also been a map of Fowey in his luggage and within a few seconds he had found out where Potter was hiding - at least if it was true, which he was still convinced of.

He was sure by now that it had to be fate - Umbridge, with the brilliant idea of suspending him, and then the girls who had perfectly described his hated childhood nemesis.

The only thing he didn't know if it was a good idea was trying to surprise Potter in broad daylight. After all, the Pursuit Squad had already made a number of attempts to capture him, and had failed every single time.

Potter certainly wasn't to be taken lightly, and Draco knew it. Maybe he should have tried to find the cottage at night, although the stormy weather and his lack of local knowledge would likely have made the search difficult.

But on the other hand - who could be sure that surprising Potter at night would have been easier? If Draco were in his place, he would definitely be even more careful once darkness fell. And Potter wasn't stupid. He would be on alert twenty-for-seven.

Accordingly, it probably didn't matter when Draco tried to gain entry to the cottage.

It was a shot in the dark, one way or the other.

Finally, clutching his wand in the pocket of his robes, he strode across the street. His eyes darted from one window to the next, but most of the rickety shutters were closed. Apart from that the house laid quiet and innocent in front of him. The cobblestone path leading directly to the front door was lined with unplanted borders of flowers. That made sense because, as he had learned, the house was actually empty. In addition, November was already drawing to a close and soon the few rays of sunshine that still reached the rugged coastal landscape of the south-west of Great Britain would not give enough warmth to any blooms.

It really was a lovely cottage. And it almost made Draco a little angry that Potter was enjoying himself in a village where others might spend their holidays. In his eyes, for example, he had met a much worse fate instead. Not to mention Granger. Potter certainly wasn't keen on being hunted by the Ministry all the time, but at least he had his peace for the time being.

Draco snorted and dismissed the thought. He didn't have time for that now.

The house was circuited in a few seconds and looked absolutely uninhabited from the outside - which probably did the trick. Draco eventually decided to use the back entrance and stopped there after walking around the cottage once more.

Goosebumps ran down his arms. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but something told him the whole thing stank to high heaven. He definitely had to be careful. Potter wouldn't hesitate to curse him as soon as he saw him. So he had to be faster than him when push came to shove.

"Alohomora," he whispered and was surprised when the lock clicked and the door opened a crack. He had expected it to be magically secured in at least one other way. But even when he slowly pushed his foot over the threshold, nothing happened.