Harry Potter: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 7

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The night over Little Whinging was enveloped in an unsettling stillness, a deceptive calm that blanketed Number Four Privet Drive. The usually vibrant and chaotic household of the Dursleys stood shrouded in darkness and silence, a stark contrast to the imminent danger that loomed. With the Dursleys having evacuated in haste, their home was now a quiet shell, betraying no hint of the turmoil that was about to erupt.

Inside the empty house, Harry Potter sat alone, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. His eyes scanned the Daily Prophet, the headline glaring at him like an accusation: "Evelyn Riddle: Truth Comes to Light" The article, penned by the ever-provocative Rita Skeeter, painted a damning picture of Evelyn. Skeeter's sensationalist narrative claimed that Evelyn had willingly joined the Death Eaters, revealing her allegiance to the dark forces she had previously fought against. According to the article, her betrayal had been anticipated for years, and her departure to Voldemort's side was framed as a long-awaited and inevitable fall from grace.

Harry's heart pounded with frustration and disbelief as he read through the article. The blatant falsehoods and malicious fabrications ignited a fierce anger within him. He crumpled the newspaper into a tight ball, his hands trembling as he hurled it across the room. The idea of Evelyn being portrayed as a traitor was deeply unsettling, especially given the uncertainty of her situation. The lack of any real news about her whereabouts only deepened his worry. He feared for her safety, knowing that she was actively in danger-or worse.

Just as he was sinking into his thoughts, a deafening roar shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of a motorbike revving outside pierced through the night. Harry's heart leaped in his chest, and he bolted from his seat, his mind racing. He sprinted down the dark hallway, his steps echoing off the walls. He nearly tripped over Hedwig's cage, sending it wobbling, but he didn't stop. He flung open the front door, wand raised defensively, his eyes scanning the night.

The sight that greeted him was almost surreal. Hermione Granger, her face flushed with relief, threw her arms around him. "Harry!" she cried, her voice choked with emotion. Ron Weasley followed, enveloping Harry in a tight, reassuring hug. Emerging from the shadows were familiar faces: Fred and George Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Tonks, Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a small, scruffy man named Mundungus Fletcher. Hagrid was the last to dismount from the motorbike, peeling off a pair of fly-specked goggles and pulling a small, fluttering bird from his beard.

"All right, Harry? Yeh look fit," Hagrid said with a heartfelt, though tearful, smile.

"Yeah, he's ruddy gorgeous," Mad-Eye Moody grunted, his eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp vigilance. "What say we get undercover before someone murders him?"

They hurried into the house, their footsteps quick and purposeful. As they spilled into the sitting room, Harry's face lit up with gratitude and relief. The sight of his friends, all gathered together, filled him with a deep sense of comfort.

"All right, all right! You'll all have time for a cozy catch-up later!" Moody's voice cut through the room with authority. "We've got to get the hell out of here and soon!"

He dropped a set of heavy sacks at his feet and turned to Harry, his expression serious. "Potter, you're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"The Trace?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Moody's face grew stern. "The Trace is a magical tracking spell that monitors underage wizards. Any magic you do can be detected. We need to use transport methods that the Trace can't detect—brooms, Thestrals, and such." He held up a flask filled with bubbling potion. "We'll go in pairs. That way, if anyone's out there waiting for us—and I expect there will be—they won't know which Harry Potter is the real one."