Darkened Light

Chapter One

Little Hangleton

In the little village of Little Hangleton, news traveled fast. It was the type of place where everyone knew everyone and rumors spread like wildfire.

"Did you hear- the Riddle's caretaker was murdered!"

"No!"

"Indeed!"

And so it began- the conversations and theories of what really happened. Because of course, everyone in Little Hangleton never believed what the police had to say about the crime. Their details weren't juicy enough. Most people were happy of the old man's death. After all, in their minds he had killed the Riddles. Others were more worried of their safety. Some even fled. One thing was for sure- dark times were settling in Little Hangleton. Even the weather predicted it, as dark storm clouds blew in from the south on an autumn evening. Where was everyone? In the local pub, of course.

"One scotch on the rocks?" said Miss Gallywood, the bartender of the Hanged Man.

"Over here," an old woman said, bustling over to the bar counter. "So, how are ya Sally?" she asked.

"Fine Dot. I'm afraid I'm moving in a couple of months time though," Sally replied while wiping the counter.

"Oh? You don't say?" asked Garett, another man sitting on a bar stool. Garett Withersnaper was quite aged himself. "What reason?"

Sally Gallywood looked hesitant. "Well, the murder of Frank. I'm scared out of my wits. I'll be moving to Scotland, staying with a sister of mine..."

"Frank Bryce, eh? The old codger who killed the Riddles?" asked a middle aged man, half drunk.

"Of course. Everyone knows he did it." Dot replied airily. Sally raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"Deserved it, I tell you," said Garret. "Did you know," he said, his voice dropping considerably, "that he died the same way as the Riddles? Bryce was healthy as an old man can be. No sign of murder either."

Sally shivered as Dot nodded her head. "All the reason why I'm leaving. There's something bad coming to this village, I can almost feel it."

Thunder cracked just as Sally finished her cryptic sentence, adding to the mood of the discussion. Everyone was listening now. The whole bar was full of whispers and murmurs.

"You know what I heard?" one woman whispered to the other. "They found a large, dead snake skin near Bryce's body."

"I bet he killed himself. No family, no friends. He just couldn't live with the guilt of having killed the Riddles... mind you, did us good that the Riddles died, but all the same..." Dot muttered. There were nods from most of the townspeople, a few looking hesitant. "Come now Dot," said Gwenyth Mapletoe, a young widow. "Surely Frank didn't kill them," she began, "there was no evidence that he did."

The middle aged, half drunk man spoke again. "Bunch o' rubbish, I say. FRANK KILLED THE RIDDLES!" he bellowed, swaying side to side. There was an uproar of approval.

"Good riddance to Frank Bryce!" Garrett yelled, clinking his beer jug with the rest of the bar's.

A rat slipped out of the bar through the commotion. If rats could smirk, this one would have. It scurried off towards the Riddle home.

****

Ten Months Later...

Harry Potter lay on his old, worn bed, staring at the ceiling which was now peeling. He took a deep breath as he heard Dudley Dursley's bellowing from below. Nothing really out of the ordinary for Harry, the Boy Who Lived. What was Dudley bellowing about? He wanted a new video game, of course. The nurse from Smeltings, Dudley's school, had told the Dursleys that a diet this summer wouldn't be enough- Dudley needed to exercise and stop watching television. This included playing on a Play Station. Dudley Dursley was now having the umpteenth heated fight of the summer.

"I WANT THE WILY TERMINATOR 3000 AND I WANT IT NOW!"

The walls of Harry's small and cramped room shuddered. Harry rolled his eyes and got up, looking at Hedwig who was now sleeping in her cage. Hedwig was having a rough summer, as Harry had sent many letters to Ron, Hermione, and Sirius during the first week of vacation. He sighed, looking at his calendar, marking off the eighth of July. Only a couple more weeks until Harry's fifteenth birthday. He didn't feel very festive though. More like downright dull and dim.

The realization of Cedric's death had struck Harry hard in the back. He wouldn't be seeing the Hufflepuff champion their next year at Hogwarts... he'd never be Head Boy, or so most people said. Cedric would never be the captain of the Hufflepuff Qudditch team. And why had this happened?

Because Harry was so bloody fair.

But he knew that fretting over it wasn't going to help him. Since Harry's return to Privet Drive, Ron had sent him many articles from the Daily Prophet, a Wizarding newspaper. Many of them had brought tears of bitterness to Harry's eyes, as the reporters told the story of the Third Task. Though Rita Skeeter had been fired from the Daily Prophet after Hermione released her, the Daily Prophet wasn't short of... colorful stories.

He picked up a letter he'd left on his nightstand. It was from Sirius Black, his godfather, who had been wrongly accused nearly fourteen years ago of the death of Lily and James Potter, Harry's parents. Everyone thought that Sirius had killed twelve Muggles, including Peter Pettigrew, as well. Some even ventured to say that Sirius was the Heir of Voldemort. But none of those things were true. How is that so, you may ask?

All of it was the work of Peter Pettigrew of course, who had been living as the Weasleys' rat up to the point in Harry's third year when he, Ron, and Hermione had found out the truth about Sirius Black in the old Shrieking Shack.

That's when it all started, Harry thought. If he had just caught Pettigrew while he and Hermione were using that Time Turner, maybe things would be different. Well, things would be different. But Hermione had forbid him, and now he wished he had a Time Turner.

Dear Harry,

I've just reached Moony's home. I can't tell you where he's living, but I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon enough. Can't say anything else, really. I really do wish you didn't' have to stay with the Dursleys Harry, but things will change soon enough.

I also wanted to tell you that I'll be gone for several days. Orders from Professor Dumbledore. I'll... notify you when I return, but until then owl Dumbledore immediately if anything suspicious happens. I know I sound too much like my mother, but times are worsening. I just want you to be safe.

Sirius

P.S. Yes, Sirius does sound rather like his mother at times. Don't tell him I told you that. But as he said Harry, be on the lookout. Don't worry about the Dursleys, I'm sure you'll be gone from there in no time.

Moony

The letter puzzled Harry. What was Professor Lupin talking about? He wouldn't be leaving the Dursleys anytime soon. Ron had sent Harry a letter telling him that Dumbledore had sent them a letter saying that he wouldn't be able to stay with the Weasleys for now. If Sirius and Remus were just trying to make him feel better, it wasn't exactly working.

Suddenly, a gray owl swooped into the room swiftly from the window, landing on Harry's shoulder. His eyes went wide at the owl's entry. The owl was familiar, as Hermione used it every time she sent Harry a letter. He assumed it was Viktor Krum's owl. He slowly took the letter from it's outstretched leg.

Dear Harry,

It's so delightful here in Bulgaria. Viktor has been taking me around to all the fascinating museums and libraries. You wouldn't believe how different the magical culture is here! They even have a museum on Veelas, which was very fascinating. Did you know that Salazar Slytherin created them himself by taking the soul of a young Bulgarian woman? A chilling thought, but I'm sure this trip will help me for History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts next year.

I've just received my invitation to Cedric's funeral. I suspect the whole school has been invited. I'll be leaving Bulgaria early to attend. Viktor wasn't terribly happy, having not received an invitation.

Cheer up Harry, at least you have books there in England in English. Viktor has been translating books for me, but his Translation Charms are a bit rusty. He translated one text into Spanish!

As to your question Harry... no, Viktor and I have discussed our relationship, and it's staying strictly platonic. You can tell Ron that, I daresay he'll be delighted.

Love From,

Hermione

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Practically all of the letters he received from Ron were ranting on the fact that Hermione was spending a bit of her summer at Bulgaria.

He looked up at the window in his bedroom, and was startled to see a dark owl perched upon it. This owl wasn't familiar, he thought as he picked up the letter addressed formally to him. Too formal to be from Sirius. Harry opened the envelope and out of it fell a piece of parchment, which read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

You have been invited to the funeral of Cedric Odius Diggory, which will be served at Blessed Sacrament for Witches and Wizards on July twelfth. Attire will be black dress robes, and reception will be held at the Diggory home after the burial. A Portkey that will be activated for Sunday morning at precisely nine is enclosed. We are hoping you will attend.

Sincerely,

Mr. and Mrs. Amos Diggory

Harry looked at the cracked marble that lay on his bed, having fallen out of the envelope as well. He held it gently and unfastened the loose floor board, adding the invitation and Portkey inside.

Harry was relieved that the Diggorys were allowing Harry to attend the funeral. He'd received a letter from Ron yesterday telling him that the Weasleys had been invited. Harry had wondered whether or not he would be invited, seeing as some of the Wizarding community didn't believe the story of Voldemort's return, their reactions similar to those of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

He briefly wondered how he was going to get black dress robes. He only had green ones. As Harry thought about this, there were loud thumping noises from the stairs.

BAM!

Harry practically jumped as his bedroom door flew open. Vernon Dursley, his uncle, a purple faced man with a large mustache stepped in, looking livid.

"Get down stairs, you thing. You're going to the shopping center with us," he grunted.

Harry blinked. "What?" he asked in bewilderment. He'd only been taken to the local mall a couple of times when he was younger.

"We're going there and Mrs. Figg is sick. There's no way in hell you're staying here by yourself." Vernon replied in a strained voice. He turned around and disappeared into the hallway.

Harry scrambled off of his bed and went to the mirror. He'd grown much taller over the summer. His body resembled Ron's now: he was tall and lanky. He quickly attempted to fix his hair, which didn't work, and slipped on his old loafers.

Harry raced down the stairs and practically flew through the front door with abnormal speed. The Dursleys were already in the car, waiting for him. He opened the rear door and sat down next to Dudley, not showing any sign of happiness that he was finally out of the house. That would've angered Uncle Vernon greatly, which was something Harry wasn't about to do.

Dudley looked around with a smug smirk on his face. Aunt Petunia's face looked relieved, considering that Dudley was finally settling down. Harry gazed out the window, pondering how the words 'Wily' and 'Terminator' could be in the same video game title.

When they finally reached the Surrey Mall, Dudley complained about the long walk to the entrance. Aunt Petunia wiped the sweat off his face. "Aww, don't worry Dinky-dums, we're almost there," she cooed.

The inside of the mall was almost exactly the way it had been many years ago, polished and prestigious. There were several levels, and the stores were of great variety. Dudley ran over to the electronics store, and Harry could swear he felt the floor shaking. On the display of Menda's Electronics was a five foot tall poster of a tiny, little green man holding a gun the size of the poster. On it was the following:

WILY TERMINATOR 3000

IN STORES JULY 8

FEEL THE WRATH OF WILY!

Harry kept himself from snorting at the poster. Aunt Petunia chased after Dudley frantically, while Uncle Vernon turned to look furiously at Harry.

"You stay here, and if you step one foot out of line," he said in his deep, grunting voice, "there will only be three people under my roof." His purple face grew more purple, and he thumped his way towards the shop.

Harry gazed around with a bored expression. It was more entertaining to be at the mall than home, he thought. But that thought was diminished quickly. Number Four Privet Drive would never be his home.

He looked over to the next store, Pets, Pets, and Oh Yes, More Pets! In one display window was a large cage with three Scottish Terrier pups. They were considerably adorable, causing Harry to smile as one of them gazed up at him with large eyes. He moved on over to the other display, where an aquarium with a large, silver and green snake lay. Harry cast his glance towards the Dursleys, who were in an extremely long line talking to whom he remembered as the Polkiss's, whose son Pier was still friends with Dudley.

Harry turned his glance back towards the snake, who was staring at him between the slits of his eyes.

"You are one of them,"

Harry almost jumped back, surprised. He hadn't spoke Parseltounge since his second year.

"I'm one of what?" he replied in a hissing language.

"You are one of the two who ssspeak our tongue."

This shocked Harry. How could this simple snake know that there were two Parseltounges in the world? It didn't make much sense. A lady walking by stared at him suspiciously, but didn't say a word as she walked into the shop.

"How- how do you know?" he couldn't express his thoughts into words, but that question pretty much summed it up.

"It's a feeling all sssnakesss have. You two humansss are connected to all sssnakesss- we can feel your pressscence." she replied. Harry determined the snake was a she by her voice.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Harry really did jump back this time. An old man with grizzly gray hair and black beady eyes stared at him, his face red with anger.

"Erm- nothing sir," he lied. The man scrunched up his face threateningly.

"Is there a problem here?"

Harry mentally groaned as he heard Vernon's voice behind him. He was really in deep now.

"That ruddy boy was making noises at my snake- he was scaring her!" Mr. Inorman exclaimed, his name gleaming off a silver nametag on his green vest.

"I'm terribly sorry Mr... Inorman, our nephew you see, isn't quite all here..." Vernon trailed off, pointing at the side of his head. Inorman set wary eyes at Harry again.

"Yes, well you get your ruddy nephew out of here or I will call security." he muttered, walking back into his store. Vernon grabbed Harry fiercely by the upper arm and dragged him to the exit. He could hear Dudley snickering behind him and Aunt Petunia tutting.

They walked through the vast parking lot, and Harry could practically feel the bruises forming on his arm by Vernon's tight grip.

When they reached Vernon's company car, a BMW of course, a man was leaning on the side, his eyes staring at the forest towards the end of the lot. He had pepper hair, sharp blue eyes, and looked no older than fifty. His clothes were casual, a pair of navy blue trousers, a collared shirt and navy blue vest. He took a long drag of his cigarette and looked at the bewildered Durselys.

"What do you think you're doing? Who are you?" Vernon growled. The man blinked, and reached into his pocket, holding out an I.D.

"Private Investigator. Is there a Harry James Potter amongst you?" While saying this, the man set his eyes on Harry as though he knew that Harry was already there. Vernon knocked him roughly towards the mysterious man.

"Yes, I'm Harry," Harry said while rubbing his arm. The man's eyes lit up.

"Well Mr. Potter, you're coming with me for a little while. You don't mind, I assume?" he said, smirking slightly at Vernon.

"Keep him for all I care!" he grunted loudly, getting into the car with his wife and son. Harry and the Investigator watched them silently drive away. The man took another drag of his cigarette and ground it into the asphalt. He began walking away, and Harry assumed he was to follow him.

This was when he noticed something that practically made his heart stop.

There was something sticking out of his pocket. Something that Harry would spot anywhere.

A wand.

He gulped. This man could be a Death Eater for all Harry knew. Before he could think of anything else, the man stopped and turned around. They'd reached the edge of the forest.

"Nice to meet you again Potter," he said slowly, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Who are you? You're not a Private Investigator!" Harry exclaimed, the words spilling out. He'd never met this man in his life. He pointed at the wand. "You're- you're a wizard."

"Nice evaluation," He stuck out his hand. "Mundungus Fletcher, at your service."