Harry Potter and the Famous Five's ice-cream man

Part 5

Harry grasped the drainpipe and pulled himself up a few yards, but could find no purchase. He slid down again uselessly. How had they all made climbing look so easy?

There was nothing for it. He was going to have to go in through the shop and up the stairs. He had led them into danger and he had to do all he could to get them out of it.

He reached for his wand and whispered "Alohamora." But of course nothing happened. Ah well, at least his wand was a decent pointy stick. Harry poked at the glass of the door until it shattered, then reached in and undid the lock.

"Voila!" he said to himself out loud. It was something Older Hermione had started saying after some trip to France or other. Just saying it comforted him a little, remembering his friends.

Come to think of it, he would surely have told Hermione about this adventure when he returned. Had Older Hermione known about this all the time? Had he, by some amazing chance, told her how he'd beaten Voldemort?

An idea came to him in a flash. He took out the little notebook and pencil that Julian had lent him, and hastily scribbled a note to Older Hermione – a couple of years beyond the Hermione he knew. 'Before the end of our first year,' he wrote, 'you must tell me how me and the Famous Five beat Voldemort.' That seemed a little bald, so he added 'Hope you are well, weather good, Harry,' and folded the note. Then he emitted a low whistle, the kind he used to call Hedwig, his pet owl.

He stood in the dark, waiting. He wasn't at all sure this would work – but the wizarding world was slow to change. Surely they would have been using owl post a mere 50 or 60 years ago?

Just as he was about to give up, there was a rustle of wings and a large tawny owl swooped down and landed on his shoulder.

Harry beamed with delight, a warmth suffusing him. Magic was still there, all around him, and he could call it into use even without his wand! He stroked the owl's soft feathers.

"This letter is to go to Hogwarts, all right?" he said. "Just to Hogwarts. The person it's addressed to isn't alive yet, they need to keep it for her."

The owl blinked. Like it didn't have better things to do than fly to Scotland and deliver a letter to someone who wasn't even alive yet. It squinted at the direction, "To be given to Hermione Granger at 9:15 on the ... how long into the future?? For heaven's sake. Ah well, at least it wasn't exactly an urgent mission. He could go via St Tropez. He hadn't had a holiday in ages.

The owl took off, winging silently into the night. Harry watched it go, and then closed his eyes and waited for enlightenment to hit.

Nothing came to him. Absolutely nothing. Zero, as the French would say.

That wasn't a good sign, thought Harry. His stomach and his heart had a quick conference and decided to stay where they were, as all this travelling around the body was making them seasick. Harry still felt pretty rotten though, even with all his organs fixed and working.

He grasped his wand – he could maybe use it to poke someone in the eye – and crept forward, up the narrow stairs to the next floor.

There was movement in the living room. He walked slowly along the passage and pushed the door open with a drawn-out creak.

Voldemort stood in the middle of the room, enormous spotted handkerchief wrapped round his lower face and eyes streaming. The lavender had been chucked out of the window. Mr Goon had hold of the three children, holding them with inhuman strength as they kicked and struggled to get away.

"Ah," snuffled Voldemort. "I see by your wand that you are not a Muggle, as these are." He waved his wand hand in the direction of Mr Goon, sneezed, and accidentally blew up the fireplace. "Damn! What is your heritage? Are you a pureblood?"