Swept From the Past

Chapter 1 : Dogs, cats and squirrels

The night was falling at number four, Privet Drive. A young boy with messy hair and a scar on his forehead lay on his bed, his green eyes opened, thoughtful. Harry Potter, that was his name, stared at the latest edition of the Daily Prophet his owl Hedwig had brought him in the morning. "Lucius Malfoy, Victim of a Plot?" was the title of the font page, where a large photo of the blond man could be seen. He had a conqueror smile on his lips and raised his head, as if he had fairly been acquitted by justice. His wife accompanied him to the exit and a lot of reporters followed them, pressing the Malfoys for their reaction to the verdict.

"The wizarding world was turned on its ear today by a surprise verdict in the Malfoy trial. After a lengthy and contentious trial, Lucius Malfoy, who had been arrested at that mass break-in at the Ministry of Magic this past June, has been released from the Prison of Azkaban.

Lucius Malfoy, a wealthy and highly-regarded member of the Wizarding community, had been caught with a group of suspected Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. However, certain proofs have demonstrated that this respectable man had been accused wrongly. "I am innocent!" he had proclaimed to the court since the beginning of the trial. "I have never been a partisan of You-Know-Who!" Now that the Dark Lord has returned, such an assertion is real evidence of courage, the desperate scream of a victim which has fortunately been heard by justice.

"My husband hasn't done anything wrong!" testified his wife, when she was questioned by the defendant's solicitor, "That evening, he received an Owl, warning him that the Ministry would be attacked during the night! He immediately left the Manor, out of a sense of duty and now, he's about to spend his whole life in prison... We have a son! How would he live without his father? Will he... spend his whole life thinking of his father as a criminal?" Narcissa Malfoy, who testified three days ago, made a very moving speech; her sincere declaration has obviously changed the opinion of the jury, who almost cried when she explained the facts.

"I'm the victim of a well-organised plot!" claimed Lucius Malfoy. "When I entered the Ministry, someone attacked me and dressed me like a Death Eater! Someone even hexed me to print this horrible tattoo on my flesh! I only ask for justice!" he loudly responded to the attorney, who had used this Dark Mark as a proof of his guilt. "I don't remember anything about what happened next!" Lucius Malfoy also argued. "Someone used the Imperious Curse on me! These children are the age of my son! They are at the same school! How could have I attacked them of my own free will, knowing that they are friends with him? That's nonsense! Should I be imprisoned for something I was forced to do?"

Yesterday, the court declared Lucius Malfoy innocent and it's with happiness that he left the hearing with his wife. No doubt his son will be proud of him... In this case, justice has prevailed."

"Yeah," said Harry, smirking in front of the paper, "justice... I think that a lot of Galleons helped the jury to take his side. A surprise verdict? That's the fifth Death Eater released since the beginning of the holidays!"

Every time Harry received the Daily Prophet, it was full of bad news. And every time, Harry felt furious and helpless. A Quidditch stadium full of people had been attacked by dozens of Dementors. Almost twenty wizards had been kissed and were now waiting at St. Mungo's, even if there was nothing that could be done for them anymore. There had been a violent rebellion of the Giants, and the Goblins were becoming restless. The Wizarding World was upside-down now that Voldemort had returned.

And now, another Death Eater had been released! Was justice so blind that it could not see what would happen next? All the trials were supposed to be settled by the end of the month. Some of the Death Eaters would just wait to be discharged. It wouldn't take long, for those who would be condemned, to escape. And considering that there had just been a sample of Death Eaters at the Ministry, it would be harder to fight against Voldemort.

Harry remembered what happened that day at the Ministry. He and his friends had been frightened, when they realised they had fallen into a trap. It wasn't the first time Harry was exposed to danger, but the others had been terrified. They had had to fight against the Death Eaters and some of his friends would have died, if Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Sirius hadn't come to rescue them.

"Sirius..." Harry murmured, thoughtfully.

His heart tightened. Sirius was dead. Dead. And the one who had killed him was still alive.

Aurors at the Ministry of Magic had conducted a massive search for Bellatrix Lestrange. She was considered a dangerous criminal, as her cousin Sirius Black had been, and was still, since few people knew of his death. According to the Daily Prophet, Bellatrix had been seen in Romania a month ago, where she had apparently attacked a monastery and seriously injured or killed the monks who lived there. There was no more information about her.

Harry looked at the clock on his desk. It was almost midnight. Three, two, one... That was it... He was sixteen years old. He looked at the presents he had already received. Hermione had sent him a book, which related the best Quidditch performances from the beginning of the game. It was half-history, half-game, the perfect present from Hermione. She was travelling in France and she would not come back to England until the date to return to Hogwarts. She apparently had a great time there and had sent him a big vanilla cake with sherry sauce and cream, and a Muggle photograph where she was posing in front of the Louvre.

Ron and Ginny had sent him a chocolate cake and an entire box full of tricks from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, which he didn't dare open in Privet Drive. He had had enough problems the previous years with magic and he didn't want to do it again. He had enough to think about without risking expulsion from school over a few practical jokes.

According to Ron, Fred and George were apparently becoming rich with their joke shop and even Mrs. Weasley had started to accept the situation, which was a miracle.

Luna had sent him a strange thing. It was a little, transparent, cold, round object, which turned in the air while making bubbles. Harry had absolutely no idea what it was. And Neville had sent him a book, which dealt with the different plants of South Africa, which was, for Neville, a brilliant idea. As for Hagrid, he had sent Harry a great book about dragons.

Harry had also received a package full of textbooks for the new school year, with a note from Professor McGonagall. She wrote that for safety reasons, he wouldn't have to go and buy them in Diagon Alley.

Harry was examining his presents, when he heard a knock on the window. When he opened it, a nice, little, white owl with black wings entered his room. He had never seen it before. The owl carried a large package with a little pink ribbon on it. Harry let it enter Hedwig's cage to feed and drink. When the owl had finished, it affectionately nibbled one of his fingers before leaving, which was strange for an owl he had never seen before.

Harry inspected the package. There was nothing written on it. He brought himself to tear the packet. There was a brown book in it with a leather cover. When he opened it, he discovered that it was a photo album. A photo album of his parents...

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Who had sent him this? Each page he turned had new animated images of his parents when they were young. There were many of Lily at the beginning of the album, then his father progressively appeared more often, then Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew... There were many individual photographs, but Pettigrew appeared only in the group photographs, as if the person who had sent him the album had known he was a traitor. Maybe it was a present from Lupin? But there was no note with the package. Lupin would have written something. Maybe it was from Sirius, before he died?

Harry turned the pages that revealed to him things he hadn't known about his parents' lives. He had learned a little about his parents through Sirius, who had mentioned a few anecdotes, and indirectly through Snape, when Harry had seen his worst memory in the Pensieve. He felt nostalgic about his Godfather and his parents, but he also felt very happy to have something tangible to remind him of their existence in the world.

When he turned the last page, he saw a little note on the back of the cover, written by hand:

"Happy Birthday, Harry. You always must keep the memory of those who loved you. It will help you in your life, in your choices, in your fate. Your parents would have been proud of you. Just like Sirius. I hope this passing instant of their life will comfort you, before you leave these awful Muggles to return to Hogwarts."

That was it. Short, with no signature, but the person who had written it had hit the point and pleased him much more than he, or she, could ever have imagined. Harry was infinitely grateful to this stranger who had given him happiness, when he hadn't expected it.

***

Harry's summer holidays had been relatively calm compared to the ones he had had before. Dudley Dursley, his fat ugly cousin, had stopped using him as a punching-bag. Dudley and his gang, however, continued to vandalise the play park and traumatise any child or adolescent that they met on their way, as they had the year before. Even Uncle Vernon and

Aunt Petunia had almost left him alone. This lack of aggression towards Harry was due to the threat Mad-Eye Moody had made in the station, before showing his magical eye, which had horrified the Dursleys more than anything. Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye and Mr. Weasley had promised they would watch out for Harry at Privet Drive, if they heard that he'd been mistreated in any way.

Aunt Petunia had imagined these freaks, as she called them, in front of her house. "Oh, what would the neighbours think?" she said once, about to collapse.

Uncle Vernon had grumbled many times, but he had said nothing directly to Harry. Aunt Marge had planned to visit them for a week, but Uncle Vernon had told her that Petunia had a bad and contagious flu, which was, of course, a lie. He didn't want something bad to happen again, like last time, when Harry had transformed her into a flying ball. Aunt Marge's memory had been altered and she couldn't recall the incident, but Uncle Vernon did.

At the beginning of the holidays, he had yelled at Harry, when the boy had accidentally broken a glass. It had fallen on the floor, because Dudley had hit Harry on the back, while he was discreetly trying to listen to the news. Harry remembered it well, especially the soft, agreeable voice of Uncle Vernon:

"POTTER!!! STUPID, MALADROIT BOY!!! I FORBID YOU TO BREAK THE DISHES OR ANYTHING ELSE IN MY HOUSE!!! I WORKED HARD TO BUY THEM!!! I WARN YOU, NEXT TIME--"

The telephone rang, interrupting his shouts.

"YES?" Uncle Vernon answered aggressively, still furious, his face red.

Then, his face turned suddenly blank and he replied more shyly.

"Yes...yes...yes..."

The change in his features had been so quick that Harry thought something bad had happened to someone his uncle knew.

Uncle Vernon hung up and returned to his armchair to watch TV, without going on shouting at him. That was definitely weird.

After a few minutes, he stood up and called Dudley for a chat. They went to his bedroom and, when Dudley came out, several minutes later, he was as white as his father.

"What's up, Dinky Diddydums?" said Harry to provoke Dudley.

He knew it was the only way to make him speak. But Dudley simply went down the stairs, stared at one of the windows, and left, without telling anything to Harry.

Soon, Uncle Vernon came back to the sitting room.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"Hmmm?" Uncle Vernon replied evasively, as if he was lost in his thoughts. "Oh... nothing", he responded, "just a call from Marge to know if Petunia feels better."

"What happened?" repeated Harry, becoming angry.

He hated when people hid things from him, and Uncle Vernon was obviously lying.

"Listen, boy..." Vernon tried to respond gently, "maybe you should go to your bedroom to study, before returning to your freak... er..." he cleared his throat and corrected himself, casting a quick glance outside, "... Hog-something-school."

"What???" replied Harry, dumbfounded.

However, the occasion was too great to be missed. He ran to his room and took his books out of his trunk to work a little. He was used to working at night and it was the first time he was allowed to practise during daylight. It was tiring to study at night, especially because it was hard to see without light. The previous years, Uncle Vernon always checked if the light was on his room, and Harry had even discovered once that the bulb of his bedside lamp was missing. The attitude of his uncle, since the beginning of the holidays, had been definitely strange.

A month had passed since this first phone-call, but each time Uncle Vernon started to yell at Harry, the scene repeated itself. The telephone rang. Uncle Vernon blanched, picked it up, listened, put down the receiver, and didn't yell anymore. Sometimes, he didn't even speak for a long time.

The day after his birthday, it was Dudley who answered the phone, after having pushed Harry on the floor, because he was in his way. Dudley listened to the receiver and gasped loudly, his wide eyes staring out the window. Then, he let the telephone fall on the floor and escaped quickly, making a high-pitched squeak.

"Hello?" said Harry, picking up the receiver.

No one responded.

Half-an-hour later, Harry raised his head from the book, The Subtle Art of Potions for NEWTs Students, and watched through the window. He wondered what Dudley had been staring at. There was nothing really interesting outside. A few neighbours were mowing their lawn; others were having tea; birds were flying in the sky, squirrels were climbing up the trees, there was a black cat on the grass...

Wait a minute! Since when were there squirrels on Privet Drive? Although the block was pretty quiet, Harry had never seen squirrels in the trees of this neighbourhood. If there had been before, Dudley and his gang would have probably hunted them, like they did with all the animals they saw. They used to catch lost dogs and cats and fasten pans to their tails, just for fun. Aunt Petunia had complained about her missing cooking utensils and consequently accused Harry, although she had heard about the strange fate of the pans-pets.

"After all," thought the boy, "maybe I hadn't noticed the squirrels before." He took his glasses off and instinctively cleaned them. "Anyway," said Harry after several minutes, staring at the sleepy cat, "I hope they won't find you, because if they do, you'll have a horrible time!" The cat opened one blue eye, stretched, yawned, and went back to sleep. Harry thought of Professor McGonagall, who was able to take the appearance of a cat, but this cat was much more relaxed than his Transfiguration teacher would ever be.

"I should go back to my lessons," decided the adolescent. He took a little envelope from one of his books and reread the paper that it contained:

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL, RESULTS.

Charms : Exceeds Expectations

Divination: Dreadful

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Potions: Outstanding

History of Magic: Acceptable

Herbology: Exceeds Expectations

Astronomy: Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures : Exceeds Expectations

Harry had received the envelope at the beginning of July. Contrary to what awful Umbridge had said, he had earned good marks and could think of an Auror's career. He hadn't believed his eyes when he saw he got an 'O' in Potions. Of course, Divination had been really bad, but Harry didn't care. He had decided to abandon this class. At least, he hadn't got a 'T' like Ron; 'T' stood for 'Terrible,' not 'Troll,' as George had said. History of Magic and Astronomy had just been 'Acceptable,' but it was not surprising. Harry had seen Professor McGonagall being Stupefied and Hagrid escaping from Umbridge's guards during the Astronomy exam. And he had had the vision of a dying Sirius during History of Magic. 'A' wasn't that bad.

Ron had received an 'A' in Astronomy, but he got an 'E' in History of Magic. His other marks were about the same as Harry's, except that he only got an 'E' in Potions, which prevented him from being in Snape's class. Indeed, it didn't disturb him too much. Avoiding Snape was precisely what he wanted. Mrs. Weasley had been very proud of Ron, and she promised to buy him something great, in the measure of her finances, of course.

The most amazing thing was Neville's results. He got an 'E' in Defence Against the Dark Arts and an 'O' in Potions. When he had written the good news to Harry, he had thought it a joke. Neville having an 'O' in Potions? How could it be? He was already puzzled by his own mark, but Neville??? Harry could just imagine Snape's face when he had heard the results. He giggled.

As they had all expected, Hermione's results had been more than acceptable. All her marks were between 'E' and 'O.' Hermione had been a little disappointed, although it was very good. She had wanted it to be perfect. She swore to work harder the following year, which made Ron write to Harry that she would probably prepare an Anti-Sleep-Potion and drink it the whole year.

Harry sighed. What would happen this school year? With the return of Voldemort and the imminent liberation of all the Death Eaters, it surely would be a dangerous year. Two days later, something happened to prove he was right.

***

The day had started well. Harry woke up at about ten in that morning of late August. The previous night, he had been reading the fascinating book Hermione had given him. Uncle Vernon hadn't come to roust him from sleep, like he always did, and, when Harry arrived in the kitchen, his breakfast was waiting for him. After that, he even got the permission to watch television with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge, if he sat quietly on his chair without saying anything. Something was definitely wrong, but Harry chose to keep silent.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the bell unexpectedly rang. Aunt Petunia went to the door to see who the disturbing guest was. When she opened it, she blinked and blanched.

"Petunia..." said the large, beefy and purple-faced woman, who was standing in front of her, an enormous suitcase in hand.

"M... Marge?" stuttered Petunia, puzzled to see her.

"Hmmm..." replied the horrible, masculine woman with a sneer, "you seem to have recovered, Petunia..."

"Y... Yes..." replied skinny Aunt Petunia, who wished she could disappear. "It wasn't so serious..."

"We fear that this horrible flu won't develop into something more serious. Petunia's lying in bed and the doctor is afraid that she'll take a turn for the worst..." Marge said, repeating the words Uncle Vernon had said on the phone. She looked very angry. "VERNON!" she yelled, pushing Aunt Petunia and entering the house without waiting to be invited inside. "VERNON!!!" she yelled again.

"Marge?" asked Vernon with a little voice, coming shyly to the door. He was even paler than Aunt Petunia.

"Marge...?" he repeated, flummoxed, "but what... why...?" He hadn't time to finish.

"YOU TELL ME YOUR WIFE IS ALMOST DYING, I COME TO HELP YOU AND I DISCOVER THAT SHE'S PERFECTLY WELL!!! VERNON!!!"

"I assure you that Petunia was very ill a few days ago, that the doctors were very worried about her and that..." Vernon stopped.

His sister threw him a murderous stare. Harry tried to escape discreetly from the room but the inquisitive eye of Aunt Marge caught him. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, YOU?!" she barked again. "AND... WHAT WERE YOU DOING HERE?!" she added with an ugly grimace, which made her really look like a monstrous dog.

At that moment, Harry thought that Fang looked very attractive, even when he drooled on his robes.

"Petunia, the neighbours! Close the door!" ordered Vernon.

Marge looked back at him. "SO, VERNON, YOU THINK I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE INVITED IN YOUR HOUSE?! ARE YOU ASHAMED OF ME?! IF YOUR HOUSE IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS DELINQUENT, IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!!!" she yelled, designating Harry with one fat finger.

"Come on, Marge," said Vernon, who fumbled for the words, "let me explain... Lower your voice, Marge! There are neighbours..."

"NEIGHBOURS!!!" barked Marge. "NEIGHBOURS!!! I THINK THAT YOUR NEIGHBOURS SHOULD HEAR THAT YOU REFUSE TO WELCOME YOUR SISTER AT HOME! YOUR SISTER WHO CAME ESPECIALLY TO VISIT YOUR SUPPOSEDLY DYING WIFE! I EVEN LET RIPPER TO COLONEL FUBSTER! HE WAS VERY SAD WHEN I LEFT, I EVEN HEARD HIM BARK FROM THE END OF THE STREET!!!"

"So, maybe you should have stayed with him," thought Harry, remembering the awful, old, evil-tempered bulldog she had brought three years before.

"SO, YOU CHOSE YOUR FAMILY!!!" yelled Marge. "A STUPID DANGEROUS BOY WITH FREAK PARENTS INSTEAD OF ME!!!"

"MY PARENTS WERE NOT FREAKS!" yelled Harry.

"SILENCE, BOY!!!" retorted Marge, her red nostrils flaring with anger. "I SHOULD KEEP QUIET IF I WERE YOU! IT'S LIKE DOGS! TAINTS COME FROM THE MOTHER! NOT SURPRISING SHE CHOSE A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING HUSBAND!!!"

The scene gave a strange impression of déjà vu. Marge suddenly stopped speaking. Her face started to grow. Aunt Petunia screamed, when she saw the ugly grimace Aunt Marge had on her face. The skin she had there seemed to sag near the jaws, as if she had chops. Her nose flattened itself, her ears extended themselves. Her body slowly narrowed and she soon disappeared into her large clothes. Then, a greasy bulldog emerged from them. She was so fat that her belly dragged on the floor.

"MAAAAARRRRRGGGGEEE!" screamed Vernon. "YOU!!!" he yelled, staring at Harry who knew that he wasn't responsible for any of that. Anyway, the boy felt anxious, not because of Marge, but because of the problems he would have with the Ministry of Magic.

Vernon was still barking at Harry, when an Owl flew through the window and let an envelope fall on the floor. Vernon immediately stopped and picked up the letter, his forehead sweating with fear. The message was addressed to him. Uncle Vernon said nothing. He let the envelope fall and stared at the window, terrified. Harry took advantage of this moment of inattention and picked up the letter to read it:

"Mister Dursley, I thought Ripper would fancy a female companion. I've heard he felt alone and I guess that no one other than Marge could be enough good for him. I asked him and for sure, he has a crush on her...

By the way, I almost forgot: Big Brother is watching you!"

Harry had to try hard to stifle his laughter. He had expected something from the Ministry of Magic or Dumbledore, but not that!

"Boy, go to your room, hmmm... please!" ordered Vernon, as kindly as possible, while still staring out the window.

Harry obeyed, keeping the letter in his hand. If he had any kind of trouble with the Ministry, he would have this letter as proof to exonerate himself.

He stayed the whole afternoon in his bedroom and thought about these strange events. From time to time, he heard Uncle Vernon yell his sister's name and instructions to Aunt Petunia. All afternoon, the canine Marge barked and ran in different parts of the house, struggling to escape Vernon. They weren't able to catch her until dinner-time. They locked her up in the cupboard under the stairs where Harry used to live.

Harry could see that Uncle Vernon was furious, but he didn't say anything when the boy went downstairs to eat. Dudley himself kept silent, when he came back home and saw his father's stare. An hour later, when Vernon was trying to calm his nerves, while watching a football match on TV, the electricity was suddenly cut. Vernon cursed, especially since his favourite player was about to score. The whole Privet Drive neighbourhood was plunged into darkness. There were no stars in the sky or trace of a moon.

"Ouch," screamed Dudley, who had stumbled over the low-table.

"Be careful Dudders!" Vernon said gently. "Petunia, find the torch!"

After several minutes, Petunia came back and lit the torch. Marge was still barking loudly.

"OH, SHUT UP, YOU!!!" Vernon yelled, hitting the cupboard with his feet. The bulldog suddenly obeyed.

"What must we do now, Vernon?" asked Petunia with a low and tired voice.

"First of all, light the candles. At least we'll have light, while we wait..." Ten minutes later, when the living room was full of burning candles, the bell rang.

"Go and check who it is," said Vernon to Petunia. "First, check who it is, before opening the door."

Harry felt uneasy. He took his wand, hid it in his trousers, and followed her. Who would ring at the door at this hour? The neighbours? No. Harry was pretty sure it wasn't them. He couldn't explain why, but he was aware that it was something dangerous.

Petunia looked into the peephole to check who it was, but of course, she didn't see anything. The candles were burning inside, not outside.

"Who is it?" asked Petunia behind the door.

All that she heard was a strange voice, half-whistling, half-breathing, replying something like "Maaaaaaaarrrrrccccccchhhhh." It sounded almost like the voice was saying "Marge", but that was impossible. Marge was with them, in the house, in a dog-form.

"Who?" repeated Petunia.

"Maaaaaaaarrrrrccccccchhhhh," continued the voice again.

"Don't open the door, Aunt Petunia!" exclaimed Harry, anxiously.

Petunia stared at Harry, then at the door with an expression of shock. Finally, she moved her hand to the handle of the door, but stopped it on the key to lock it better. Fortunately, she always locked the highest bolt each time Dudley came back at night.

"What is it, Petunia?" asked Vernon.

Petunia looked at him with an alarmed look. "The boy told me not to open the door..."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Vernon.

"Who is it?" he asked, not unlocking the door.

"Maaaaaaaarrrrrccccccchhhhh," replied the voice.

"Marge?" repeated Vernon, dumbfounded, his eyes wide. He went away from the door, terrified. "What is it, boy?" he whispered to Harry.

"I don't know, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded. "But it's not human..."

"Are all the doors locked?" Vernon asked his wife.

"Y... yes..." stuttered Petunia... "but the windows are still opened!" She shrieked.

"Duddy, quick!" ordered Vernon. "Close the windows!"

While Dudley was taking care of the ground floor's windows, Harry quickly went upstairs to close the windows on the first floor. He held his lit wand in his hand, just in case. He found nothing suspicious, so he came back downstairs.

"Are we safe in the house?" said Dudley who was really scared.

"Yes, we are..." replied Vernon, "and... but what do you think, young boy?" he shouted, looking at Harry, his wand still raised. "I will not tolerate such rubbish in my house!"

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry with a determined voice, "the rubbish is outside! If they attack us, my wand will be very useful!"

Petunia flinched at the word "attack".

"AAAAAHHHHH!" shrieked Dudley.

"What, Duddy?" Vernon fretted.

"Th... there... outside... in the bushes... I've seen something..." He was terrified, and so were his parents.

"Where, Duddy, where?" asked Vernon, moving to the window to watch closer.

Dudley pointed his finger to the window. He was looking ill, as if he was going to throw up.

"I don't see anything," replied Vernon. "I don't have enough light..."

Harry moved closer. "Lumos Maxima!" he exclaimed, a powerful jet of light escaping from his wand.

At that moment, something awful jumped to the window, but the glass resisted, as if the form had bumped against something different from the window itself. Anyway, the light coming from the wand allowed Harry and the Dursleys to see what it looked like. It was something unbelievable. It looked human, but it obviously wasn't. The body, covered with strange black clothes, was very white and blue veins appeared all around, even on the face. The eyes were pale blue and the pupils looked like those of a cat. The mouth was red and two fangs could be seen, coming under the full-red lips. The nails were dark from dirt and very long, sharpened like dangerous knives. The Dursleys screamed with terror.

"Vampires!" exclaimed Harry with horror. He had seen what they looked like in first year, but they obviously looked more terrifying than in the book. Harry knew that killing a vampire couldn't be done with magic. "Aunt Petunia, do you have a cross?" he exclaimed. "They fear it!"

"Y... yes," she finally stuttered after a few seconds. She quickly took something from a drawer in the dining room. It was a large, simple, wooden holy cross.

"How do you... fight these things?" asked Vernon, still frightened.

"First of all..." said Harry, who didn't want to tell that magic didn't work, "never invite them into the house. They can't come, unless they have been invited..."

"Ok boy, you know I will NOT invite these things in my house!" Vernon yelled.

"Yes, but it's better if you know it!" replied Harry. "Then--" but he didn't have time to finish.

He realised there were not only one or ten vampires, but about a hundred around the house. He swallowed hard. He couldn't send an owl to anyone now. Hedwig was still outside, he had shut the window, and anyway, it would be too dangerous. The telephone was out of order, he didn't have Floo Powder on him, and moreover, the Dursleys' fireplace didn't work. And he had never learned how to Disapparate. No way to escape or ask for help.

And then, something strange happened. Harry didn't know whether it was good or not, but he saw something running fast in the garden. He just saw it by the light of his wand, so he couldn't make out much in the shadows. But, soon, the little forms transformed into bigger forms, human forms, which quickly disappeared from view. Perhaps it was a spell? It was very difficult to see what was happening, especially with the group of vampires in front of the windows. They heard many sorts of sounds, like the ones of a battle. The creatures rebounded on the house. A window was broken, but Harry knew the vampires wouldn't be able to come inside. Since they hadn't been invited, there was a wall-protection around the house. The boy noticed that there were fewer and fewer vampires all around, most of them disappearing in a pile of dust. After half-an-hour, it was over. The windows were covered with dust, so were the bushes and the plants, but the army of vampires had been destroyed. Another half-an-hour later, electricity came back into the neighbourhood. Everyone had heard strange noises, but no one ever spoke about it after.

Harry had been shocked by the attack he had seen. He felt that awful helplessness once again. But that time, it wasn't something he had heard about in the Daily Prophet. He wouldn't have been able to defend himself. What good were DA lessons, if he wasn't able to face such creatures? Maybe it was something even more dangerous than a Dementor, because magic couldn't beat them off.

At that moment, he realised that he didn't know how to kill a vampire. He had learned magic during five years. He was able to produce a Patronus, something that no student of his age could do, but if he had been outside that night, he would have been killed.

And suddenly, the 'Outstanding' grade he had received at his OWL exam took on an acid taste. Harry had been full of pride without knowing it. He now felt weak and lucky to have been protected so well so often. He promised he would work very hard this year to be ready for Voldemort.

The following day, when he woke up, he noticed that the squirrels had disappeared.

***