Harry woke up with a start, still lying on the cold concrete floor of the tunnel. He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts. The fine rain was still falling, but it was now pitch dark, with only the pale light of the street lamps faintly illuminating the swings that creaked in the breeze. His clothes were soaked, and he shivered as he sat up, his mind still foggy from the strange encounter with the Dementor.
He tried to collect his thoughts. This woman, Evelyn, and the visions that had overwhelmed him. Who was she? Why had he seen all that? He had never heard of a witch by that name, and yet... he felt there was a connection. A connection to him, a connection to his past.
Harry ran a hand over the scar on his forehead. The pain had disappeared, but the feeling that there was more to uncover lingered. A flash of memory returned. He had seen his parents, James and Lily, but also this Evelyn fleeing with a child. That child... Harry furrowed his brow. Who was he? A part of him was certain that he was missing an essential piece.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a rustling behind him. He spun around quickly, instinctively brandishing his wand and murmuring, "Lumos." A faint beam of light sprang from the tip, illuminating the damp tunnel walls. But he saw nothing but the silhouette of an owl flying into the night sky. He shook his head, trying to focus. He couldn't stay here. He needed to go home.
Harry, staggering on his legs, tried to catch his breath. He extinguished his wand and cast one last glance around. The tunnel was now silent, except for the faint echo of the owl flying away. The oppressive atmosphere that had gripped him earlier had dissipated, but a strange feeling of unease remained. Everything he had just experienced felt both real and unreal.
"I need to go back," he muttered, though the thought of returning to the Dursleys gave him no comfort. He knew, however, that he had no other choice. He still had to stay there until the end of the summer, as Dumbledore had advised him.
The park was deserted now. The children who had been playing earlier were long gone, and only the dampness of the rain remained on the grass. Harry made his way to the sidewalk, thoughts swirling in his mind. Evelyn... Who was she really? And why did he feel this strange connection to her, as if her story was tied to his?
When he finally reached Number 4, the Dursleys' house, he felt a knot form in his stomach. The curtains were neatly drawn, the car carefully parked in the driveway—everything exuded the oppressive routine of the Dursleys. He took a deep breath, knowing that the welcome wouldn't be warm.
He opened the front door quietly, trying not to make any noise. But as soon as he stepped inside, a shrill voice pierced the silence.
"Where have you been, huh?!" Uncle Vernon shouted, appearing in the hallway, his face red with anger. "You think we're going to let you come and go as you please?"
Harry sighed inwardly. He had no desire to get into an argument with Vernon after the night he'd just had.
"I was just... outside," he replied wearily, avoiding his uncle's gaze.
"Outside?" Vernon repeated, his voice menacing. "In the rain? And with your... your magic tricks?!"
Harry didn't have time to respond. Before the conversation could escalate, an owl swooped in through the living room window, landing with a crash on the dining table. A parchment was tied to its leg.
Uncle Vernon recoiled a step, both astonished and furious.
"Not those creatures again! I told you we don't want these things in this house!"
Harry ripped the letter from the owl's leg without paying attention to his uncle's outburst. He unfolded the parchment, his heart racing with anxiety over what he would read. To his surprise, he noticed that it came from the Ministry of Magic. When he opened the letter, a clear, authoritative voice suddenly rose from the paper.
