Harry Potter and the Reflection of Tromedlov

Chapter 2: A letter from Ron.

The Ministry of Magic was even draughtier than usual. Inside his office, Cornelius Fudge looked up from his work with a frown as a particularly wild gust sent his papers into disarray.

"Who was the idiot that forgot to close the window?" the Minister muttered to himself, rising from his seat behind the desk.

For a wizard's office, it was positively Spartan. On the walls, there were some pictures portraying the most famous Ministers of the past, all of whom appeared to be sleeping like logs. There was a tall bookcase filled with hundreds of ancient books, a globe of the world with queer-looking dots moving across its surface, and a big desk placed in the centre of the room, with some winding steps on the left leading up to a small recess almost hidden by piles of paperwork, where quills were busy scribbling on various parchments of their own accord. Very simply furnished, in fact.

Fudge thrust back his chair with a scrape and got up to open the door of his office, annoyed. As he left the room he found himself surrounded by a swirl of cold wind that caught at his neatly-parted hair with a vicious gust. Instinctively turning up his shirt-collar, he buttoned up his bottle-green waistcoat, shivering, and looked around. The window to his right was closed; so was the one on the left. Where had the wind come from?

Muttering impatiently at the thought of the attendant who'd failed to close the window somewhere downstairs, he set off up the stairs, intending to see to it himself. The corridor's darkness was broken only by the light from the window behind him; the pictures on the walls, which should have been filled with scenes showing former Ministers and Councils, were empty - no doubt because the characters involved had gone off somewhere to have a chat.

But the Minister didn't have to seek the open window for long. He was suddenly assaulted by a stronger, icy gust that left him shivering with cold; and from within the swirl of wind he caught sight of a woman appearing.

Fudge's eyes widened. He hadn't detected any spell. Who was this woman? He spent some time in trying to get a better look at her. She seemed young, and very beautiful. She probably came from some place in the Far East... China, or Japan. The Minister couldn't be certain about it, but he was almost sure she had to come from that part of the world, judging by not only her features and general appearance, but also her clothes. She was wearing a white Japanese Yukata, decorated with exquisite violet and purple designs. She had long, raven hair swept up on top of her head. She was indeed beautiful... but Fudge was shocked by two other details: the woman's eyes were as red as burning brands, and her ears were pointed, like the ears of a pixie. Supposing that she *was*, after all, a woman...

"Mmmmm... what are you staring at me for, human?" she said. Her English was almost perfect, but she spoke with the slightest trace of an accent.

"Hu- human? I'm a wizard!" Fudge retorted, somewhat shocked. How could she possibly have mistaken him for a Muggle? He, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic...

"Wizard, Muggle... in any case you're a human. Feh! What a stupid mission Naraku had to give me..."

Fudge's expression was the very picture of amazement. The woman was classing wizards and Muggles together off-handedly as if she didn't consider herself to belong to either. Who was she?

"Kagura, let me have a look at our host."

It wasn't until Fudge heard the voice that he noticed that there was another person present. It was a child... at least, it seemed to be a child.

He spoke in an unaccented monotone, as if under a spell, and he was about seven or eight years old, with a face at once so cruel and so beautiful that it was terrible to behold. It was impossible to tell from his features if he was a boy-child or a girl. Only his voice revealed him as male.

"Who... who are you? You talk about Wizards and Muggles in the same breath... aren't you any of them?"

"Mhmmmm... we do not like to waste our precious time giving explanations. Who do you think we are? And do it quickly... I'm in a hurry," the woman whom the boy called Kagura said, annoyed. The boy drew near Fudge, staring at him with his weird eyes, that had a colour even weirder, half violet, and half pink. Fudge's world began to mist over.

The boy glanced at him with magnetic eyes. His white, almost pink-shaded hair seemed to be shining. Fudge's sight darkened and he felt as if someone were scanning his soul, stealing away his most intimate thoughts and feelings and leaving only hatred, resentment and pain...

Wait a moment - he thought suddenly - it was just as if he were dealing with a Dementor. The feeling was exactly the same. And in that case... he knew what he must do.

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the small boy. A Patronus in the shape of a badger appeared and approached the boy, but it passed through him without hurting him. Fudge stared at him with bulging eyes.

"Stupeficium!" he tried. Once again, a light came out of his wand, but nothing happened. The boy was watching him with an evil grin all over his face - not the cheeky grin he would have expected to see on a normal boy's face, but one that seemed almost diabolic.

"Impedimenta!" It wasn't working... those eyes, he couldn't bear the power of those eyes...

"Conjunctiva!" Fudge was sweating hard. Not one of the spells he knew was working on those two.

What weapons do they use? he thought, and knew at once that he wanted to know just how they were mocking him.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, aiming his wand at them once more. Almost immediately, the fans Kagura was holding flew out of her hands and fell to the ground. The woman looked taken aback; but the child... he... was just standing there, in the same position. Nothing fell from his grasp.

He has no weapon? How is that possible? Fudge was starting to panic.

You fool, did you really think your stupid tricks would work on me? The boy was still staring at him, and Fudge felt his soul abandon him. He didn't notice that the boy hadn't said a word; it was as if the phrase had come from his own mind.

"Who... who are you? What do you want from me? Go away!" he asked the voice inside him.

I'm Naraku... and I want YOU. You can't get rid of me. Now I AM you, the voice replied, and something began scanning his soul again.

Fudge saw his whole life pass in front of him, all the worst moments standing out above the rest, while the best moments seemed now to have become ridiculous and horrible. He saw the woman he loved making fun of him, pretending to love him but then giving her heart to another man. He saw his best friend betray him in order to get prefect status at Hogwarts...

No, wait - I was the one who supported John and asked the History of Magic teacher to help him become a prefect. He was my best friend, and he deserved it, Fudge thought. But suddenly his memories were shifting, changing... No, it wasn't true! John always made fun of me. He just used me to get prefect status for himself... he was never truly my friend. He betrayed me!

You're a fool, you're nothing, nobody wants you... the voice was repeating inside Fudge's mind.

No, I'm the Minister of Magic, I'm an important person, everybody must obey me whether they want to or not -

You're a fool, you're nothing, nobody wants you... Fudge's memories seemed to shift again beneath him as all his happiness turned to pain, his bad moments overshadowing everything else, his satisfactions ebbing away.

I wanted to be important; I wanted to be brave... I wanted to be a Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat put me in Hufflepuff, his young self thought, while disappointment became settled unhappiness.

You're a fool, you're nothing, nobody wants you...

It's true... I'm nothing... I have nothing, no friends, nobody! he thought bitterly. His heart was like a stone. He felt himself filled with sadness, discomfort, pain... hatred. He was falling off a cliff into darkness. Then, for a moment, he came to himself.

"No... " He shook his head. "What am I thinking? What am I saying?"

He glared at the woman and the child. Deep in his heart, they frightened him, and he couldn't hide it. It was their fault... why did they do such a thing to him? HOW could they do such a thing to him? Where did they come from and why? Cornelius trembled at this thought, and a new idea crossed his mind.

"You'll pay for this. I'll send an owl to Dumbledore..." he muttered under his breath, turning around and trying to get back to the door of his office. He wanted to run away, he wanted them to leave him alone. The remote sound of his own footsteps seemed to be something entirely unconnected with him; something pointless and stupid. He wanted to talk with Dumbledore about what had happened.

Once again, another cold wave overwhelmed his heart and mind. Dumbledore? He's a fool... a stupid person who trusts a brat and thinks the Dark Lord has been resurrected... do you really want to trust him? Do you want to believe in a crazy old man who never pays any attention to what you decide? You're the Minister of Magic, although he doesn't think of you as such.

But this thought brought Fudge up short.

No, Dumbledore is a real friend and a person I respect. I do believe the child was telling the truth, but if I accept the idea publicly, panic would start in the wizarding world...

No, what Dumbledore says is untrue, you know that. He never was your friend, he was always laughing at you behind your back... In Fudge's mind the memories of Dumbledore became distorted, modified, transformed, until only a caricature of the truth remained. The reliable and trustworthy ally he'd always been able to call on when he needed help turned out to be a stupid booby who'd mocked and never trusted him. Cornelius could no longer tell if the words he was hearing in his head were his or not. He fell to his knees.

"Feh! Everything was too easy," the woman with pointed ears muttered to her companion, retrieving her fans. "You did everything. There was no action at all. How boring..."

"Let's see if it really was that easy!" Fudge yelled, standing up again suddenly. Shock spread across the child's face. He clearly hadn't been expecting it.

This encouraged Cornelius. Life came back into his eyes, which had been blank and vacuous. "Did you really think you could trap me in such a way? I'm Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic! I'm not some Muggle you can trick easily! I don't know how you do it, but never, ever try to enter my mind again!"

The Minister was suffering. His pride was greater than his courage or his strength. He was scared... but he didn't want to admit it. He was beaten... but he didn't want to accept it.

"Then you leave me no choice," Kagura murmured, her lips curling in a sadistic smile. "These are not the methods I normally use or prefer... but I have precise orders, and if you persist in being stubborn, I shall have to use them."

"What are you planning to do, woman?" Fudge shouted. He was suffering even more now. The pain was spreading all over his face from his efforts to resist the child's spell. His forehead was wet with sweat, and his face was turning red.

"Imperio!" Kagura said, snapping her fingers. The eyes of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, widened; but before he could utter a word, he collapsed to the ground.

"What did you do that for, Kagura? I almost had him. I just needed a few more minutes. And if I'd won him, we could have used him in a better way," the boy said. His expression never changed. He still had the same, cold, distant smile and his voice was always the same, calm and toneless.

"Are you an idiot or what? We can't waste more time, Naraku, and that Voldemort asked that we get rid of Fudge quickly, or someone may notice us." The woman shot a quick look at the boy, annoyed. Then she glanced again at the Minister, who was still unconscious, and smiled.

"Now this man will be a puppet in my hands... imagine... I'll have fun dealing with a living marionette for once..." The prospect brought a laugh from deep in her throat.

Then she snapped her fingers again, and the Minister of Magic stood up. His normal expression had returned, and he turned to go back to his office, no longer aware of the others' presence.

"Keep it in mind, Mr. Fudge..." Kagura said. And then, in a swirl of wind, both she and the boy had disappeared.

"Ah yes... obvious... why on earth didn't I think of that before? I know just what to do," Fudge murmured under his breath, closing the door to his office and going to look for a quill.

§§

Summer was very boring at Privet Drive. After his nightmare, Harry followed Sirius's suggestion and didn't even try to stray far from Number Four. The last letter his godfather had sent had sounded a little brusque... but this helped Harry to stay alert and to keep an eye out for trouble: he knew Sirius only replied in that way because he was worried about him.

Harry spent most of his time in the garden, the kitchen, or his room. He tried his best not to be noticed while doing the homework he had been set over the summer, which was particularly heavy this year. As always, Snape had assigned more than any of the other teachers. He had set two essays about the Veritaserum potion, its composition and the way to prepare it; which were the ways to use it and why the Minister of Magic had to give the permission every time it had to be used. Both essays had to cover at least 4 rolls of parchment each.

Harry had already resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be put on detention for at least a month. For a decent essay, he needed to look for information in the school text books which had been put under lock and key in the cupboard under the stairs. Last year, Harry had used the threat of sending a note to Sirius to make sure Uncle Vernon was too scared to prevent him from using his books. But the practical joke Fred and George had played on Dudley before they left for the Quidditch World Cup last year had its consequences on all the family. Uncle Vernon decided that Harry should pay for it, so when he got back from Hogwarts that summer, he was told that whether he liked it or not, he would not be permitted to use his books and stuff.

To Vernon's satisfaction, although his nephew's green eyes met his in helpless fury, the boy said nothing. Harry had no choice but to obey his uncle: he couldn't summon Sirius for such a petty reason.

Besides, even those books wouldn't be enough to help. Snape was very clear that he wanted at least four parchment rolls for each essay, and right now Harry couldn't manage to write more than one. He won't be satisfied... at all... Harry thought, sighing.

A quick glance at what he had written caused him to sigh even more deeply - it was too short. He glanced at the clock. He was sleepy; it was one o'clock in the morning, and his eyelids were heavy. He simply couldn't think straight any longer.

He heard a creaking, and quickly turned off the light. It was just as well, for after a few moments he heard footsteps in the corridor going in the direction of the bathroom.

Probably Uncle Vernon, Harry thought. Some minutes later, the same person left the bathroom, made an odd noise, and then went back to his own room, and Harry could breathe again. Only at that moment did he realise that he had been holding his breath.

He turned the light on again, thinking that he desperately needed to get his hands on the Potions book if he really wanted to write something acceptable. Finally, he decided to put off thinking about it until the next day, rolled up the parchment he had been writing on, and hid it, together with the other homework he had to finish, in the secret place he'd built two years before.

He was just about to get back under the blankets when an owl came into the room through the open window and flew in his direction. Harry couldn't help remembering the dream he'd had, but fortunately after a moment the shock wore off. Fortunately... because the small owl had begun to hoot and jump everywhere to get his attention.

"Pig! Pig, stop it! Let me catch you!" Harry whispered, trying to catch Ron's owl. Finally he managed to get hold of the owl and managed to remove the letter from its leg, while trying to calm the excitable little bird.

Finally, Harry got Pig to shut up, and then he stopped, trying not to breathe so that he could hear what was happening in the rest of the house. Uncle Vernon's snore didn't seem to be resounding any more in the big bedroom, and Harry was rather worried.

For a while he kept holding his breath, but he couldn't hear anything from outside and eventually relaxed.

Just imagine if Uncle Vernon came here to see what I was doing... he uses any excuse to punish me, he'd never let this go... he was thinking, when the door suddenly opened. The blood drained from Harry's face.

"I knew it! I knew you were plotting something. Wha... wha... what's all that noise? Can't we SLEEP in this house? What are you doing out of your bed at this hour of night?" Uncle Vernon hissed while his big face went redder and redder; his annoyed look went from his nephew's face to the owl, to the letter tied to its leg. Pig, frightened by the sudden opening of the door, began to flap wildly and hoot. His movements were jerking Harry's arms from side to side, and getting on Uncle Vernon's nerves even more.

"Umm... So- sorry... Uncle Vernon... errr... he arrived just now and he's a bit hot-headed. I tried to catch him immediately but..." The worry in Harry's eyes was clear to see, and this was doubtless the only thing keeping Uncle Vernon where he was. He was enjoying, for once, the fact that the young wizard was afraid of him. The boy had been getting far too disrespectful of late.

"No buts. Give that letter to me and I'll tear it up. Don't you ever try again to receive letters from your weird friends at this hour of night... and wake me up this way! What would our neighbours think about all this chaos?" Uncle Vernon's big face had become even redder.

Harry knew why his uncle was so worried. The Dursleys hated all 'abnormal' things. They hated magic and the wizarding world deep in their hearts, and they didn't even want to hear such words in their home. Aunt Petunia was a dreadful busybody and always prying into her neighbours' business. She wouldn't be at all happy if they were to hear strange sounds coming out of Harry's room in the small hours...

But Harry didn't want to lose this battle. He badly wanted to read Ron's letter. Thank goodness he had already put away the parchments and the books he was using to write the Potions essays, or Uncle Vernon would find out that he studied at night!

Suddenly, he had an idea. He deliberately let go of Pig. The small owl began to flutter all over the room, hooting in joy at having been freed, and Uncle Vernon started to go after him to try and catch him. The noise in the room got so loud that even Aunt Petunia was woken up. She started to come in and then stopped still in the doorway, watching the mess in shock.

"Uncle Vernon..." Harry was trying to get his uncle to notice him, following him everywhere, but it was almost impossible to get Uncle Vernon to stop his hunt.

"Damn bird! If I catch it, I swear I'll KILL it! Yes, I'll kill it, pluck it, and we'll eat it tomorrow at lunch! Petunia! Are owls good to cook?" Uncle Vernon's face had gone practically purple. His eyes were bulging and sweat was running down his forehead.

"You can't kill him! Pig's not mine!" Harry protested. Uncle Vernon didn't look as if he were joking.

"I don't bloody care if it's not yours. This damn bird came into my house and it's interrupting my sleep! I'll kill it, I swear!" Uncle Vernon stepped backwards to try to catch poor Pig, tripped over a pair of shoes, and crashed headlong to the ground.

Oh no... Harry thought. He was beginning to sweat hard. Pig was zooming about in the room hooting crazily when Uncle Vernon got up. Harry could not remember having seen Uncle Vernon so upset, ever. Not even when he freed the snake at the zoo, or the time he was accused of having turned his primary school teacher's hair blue.

"I'LL KILL IT!!!!! Petunia! Bring my rifle! QUICK! This damn thing must die!" Yes, he really was angry. Aunt Petunia wanted to say: 'what would the neighbour think about a gunshot coming from our house?' But noticing Vernon's rage she decided to shut up; she didn't go to get the gun, though.

"PETUNIA, BRING MY DAMN RIFLE!!!!" Vernon yelled, again. If Harry hadn't been so worried about Pig, he'd find it funny. Uncle Vernon was white-hot from anger and Aunt Petunia didn't know what to do.

Uncle Vernon can't kill him - Ron has already lost Scabbers, he'd never forgive me if something happens to Pig! thought Harry, his face as white as a sheet.

Uncle Vernon went to his bedroom - to get his rifle, of course. Harry followed him.

"Uncle Vernon... listen to me... Uncle Vernon... please... you can't kill him... he's not mine... Uncle Vernon!" Harry run after him very worried. The noise was so loud that even Dudley came out his room, and stared at them, mockingly. Uncle Vernon was fuming with rage and Harry was following him, terrified - it was a funny show, after all.

"Yeah! C'mon dad, kill that stupid thing!"

Vernon came out of the bedroom, loading the rifle. It was a pretty new weapon - probably he bought it after Hagrid broke the last one, few years before. The blood drained from Harry's face. He had only one more attempt to perform;

"You can't shoot a rifle in the middle of the night or the neighbours will call the police!" he said.

Uncle Vernon clogged - he had already pointed the rifle at the crazy owl, but spent some time reconsidering his actions. It was true; the neighbours would probably call the policemen, who would ask to come into their house and search it. Eventually, they could find a trunk filled with 'abnormal' stuff and books closed into the cupboard under the stairs, tossing a lot of dust on Dursley's reputation. It wasn't a risk worth taking, after all.

Harry saw his uncle thinking hard and turning purple, as sweat drops were falling all over his face. Then Vernon finally glanced at him, putting the rifle away.

"I may, eventually, decide not to kill that thing," he said. Harry let out a breath of relief. "BUT..."

"But?" the young wizard said aghast, trying to overcome the high-pitched hoots of Ron's owl.

He saw Uncle Vernon's face turning even redder. Harry wondered if his uncle was going to burst a blood-vessel. "You're going to behave when Aunt Marge comes here. GOT IT?"

Harry's heart sank. Oh no... Aunt Marge. How he hated her! His memories of the last time he'd met her, how she'd made his life a misery and how he managed to make her float in the air when she insulted his parents and he got angry, were all too vivid. But the Ministry had removed the memory from Aunt Marge's and the Dursleys' minds, so neither she nor Uncle Vernon would be able to remember what had happened.

"A... Aunt Marge?" he asked.

Dudley was watching him with a grin all over his porky face. You could tell how much fun he was having from the way his various double chins were going up and down. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

"That's right, Aunt Marge," Uncle Vernon replied, ducking just in time to avoid Pig, who was still zooming all over the room excitedly.

"She's coming here?" Harry said, appalled.

"Precisely. Next week, for three days." Uncle Vernon was enjoying himself as he saw the horror in Harry's expression.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Harry demanded, but Vernon wasn't in the mood for explanations.

"You must promise me that you'll behave in a normal way. You won't talk any of that rubbish about magic, nothing weird will happen when she's here, and you'll be polite and civilised in her presence." Vernon's eyes narrowed as he listed Harry's duties.

"But..." Harry said, once again.

It was long past the stage where he'd had to bow his head, obey and do anything they wanted him to do. A determined look crossed his face as he thought about saying 'no', but Uncle Vernon, noticing his change of expression, had raised his rifle again.

"O- okay..." Harry said, sighing and trying to look resigned. Vernon lowered the rifle again and put it down. With a quick movement, Harry caught the small owl that was still tumbling through the air in a crazy dance. He removed the letter from Pig's leg and put Ron's owl into Hedwig's empty cage - she hadn't come back with Hermione's reply yet. The little bird was exhausted.

"Don't forget!"

Uncle Vernon looked at his nephew with triumph shining in his eyes. He'd probably known about Aunt Marge's visit for ages and waited for the right moment to tell Harry about it. He'd been scared about what Harry might tell Sirius. Oh great - he'd walked straight into that one. He really was an idiot... Harry noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Dudley was looking at him with scorn. This annoyed him even more.

Vernon closed the door of Harry's room softly. As he was going back to bed, he said something under his breath to Aunt Petunia... it was impossible to hear the words, but it definitely sounded as if he were proud of himself.

Harry sighed... Aunt Marge! He hated her - he couldn't believe it. He almost caught himself glaring at poor Pig, but stopped himself just in time. After all, it wasn't Pig's fault he hadn't been fast enough to catch him. It was all the fault of that dream.

He sighed again, then noticed that he was still clutching Ron's letter. It had been a costly letter; to get his hands on it he'd had to agree to putting up with Aunt Marge for three whole days. He'd better get round to reading it before he did anything else.

"Dear Harry,

"I haven't got any real news. Fred and George keep inventing more and more jokes and this gets on Mum's nerves. Especially since they keep trying them out on her. They have created some pretty evil stuff - Ginny's face went green just from having tried one lemon-drop! And you know what? They say it's all thanks to YOU, and Mum yells at them to 'stop insulting Harry like that'.

"On the subject of your letter: WHAT was that you said your dream was about? Hermione kissing MALFOY? Neville doing powerful spells? What did the Muggles give to you for dinner that night, a dungbomb?

"But seriously, was your scar really hurting again? I thought You-Know-Who couldn't reach you when you're at the Dursleys - isn't that why you have to go back there to be tortured every summer? Did you get a reply from Sirius? Is he well? Did he find out any news about You-Know-Who?

"Oh, and another thing - what about your summer homework? Have those Muggles locked up your books again? George wants to know if you used his suggestions about how to force padlocks...

"I hope Professor Snape won't be too mad if my essays are only three rolls of parchment. The essay about the composition of the Veritaserum only came out at one parchment and a half, but I just don't know what else to write. I tried making my handwriting as large as I could, but it's still not enough...

"Anyway, please don't forget to be careful. Remember to look twice before you go anywhere, and if those stupid Muggles make you eat weird dungbombs again, just tell me, and I'll come and pick you up, whether Dumbledore gives me permission or not.

-Ron

"PS: Hullo Harry!

"Here's Fred and George! As Ron's already told you, we've put the money you kindly donated to us to the best possible use!

"That's right, you'll see our work at Hogwarts... and you'll be the first to try our new jokes. Aren't you proud of us?

-Fred and George"

Harry smiled. As usual, Ron and the Weasleys made him feel better. He noticed that the post-script had been written by both of the twins - the two phrases were written in different handwriting.

He tried not to think about Aunt Marge. It was better to try to imagine what the twins were planning for the next year at Hogwarts. But even that was alarming enough. Last time, one of the twins' Ton Tongue Toffees had made Dudley's tongue grow to a length of four feet before Mr. Weasley had got Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia calm enough for him to fix it. He'd definitely better watch what he ate at Hogwarts from now on...

He decided to write a reply to Ron. He wasn't sleepy any longer after all...

"Dear Ron,

"I'm fine here ... well, the scar hasn't hurt again, that is, though I just found out that Aunt Marge is coming here next week on a visit. I don't think it's going to be much of a birthday... but I'm used to that.

"Unfortunately when Pig got here it was very late, and he began to fly around wildly and hoot like mad, waking up the entire house. It wasn't his fault, it was mine, for not catching him quickly enough. But Uncle Vernon woke up furious and said he'd kill Pig. He got out his rifle (a rifle is a very dangerous thing that throws small balls to kill people and animals), so I had to agree to everything to stop him doing it.

"Anyway, don't worry - I'll survive three days. I'll try and think about something else while Aunt Marge picks on me. If I lose my temper and make something happen I'll probably really be expelled from Hogwarts this time... Do you remember that time the year before last when she blew up like a balloon? I was incredibly lucky to get away with that. But I'm two years older now, and if I could stand the Triwizards Tournament then I can put up with three days of Aunt Marge.

"To change the subject: yeah, Uncle Vernon locked my books away again. Last year's Ton Tongue Toffee incident really got on his nerves. I'm even worse off than you are when it comes to Snape's essays - I only wrote one parchment roll for each! I need my books to write more. I did the best I could without them.

"Give my thanks to George - I managed to get hold of my Herbology book thanks to his suggestions, and that way I was able to complete my Herbology homework, at least. I hope I can manage to get at the Potions books before Aunt Marge arrives. The three days she's spending with us are going to be a total nightmare.

"Yes, I did get a reply from Sirius. He has no news about Vol... You-Know-Who, but he seems to feel it's all too quiet to be natural. He was pretty abrupt with me too... he ordered me not to stir from Privet Drive, but, you know... staying here with the Dursleys always trying to control me, not even giving me room to breathe... it's not much fun.

"I think I'll wait until tomorrow to send this letter off. After everything that happened, Pig's absolutely worn out. He's sleeping in Hedwig's cage - she hasn't come back with Hermione's reply yet. I'm going to let him rest for tonight. The weather's really bad out there.

"See you soon,

-Harry"

Harry read the letter through again two or three times. Then he decided that it was good enough to be sent, and put it into the envelope. He approached the window and looked out. The wind was whipping the trees and the hedges wildly in a howling fury. That howl... For a moment, it almost sounded like an icy laugh.

Harry frowned and closed the window. Even if it had been Pig's fault that he'd been forced to accept Aunt Marge's visit without complaint, he wasn't going to send the little owl out in such weather. Pig was so small that he'd probably get killed... definitely better to wait for tomorrow.

§§

A swirl of wind materialised in front of a great house near London. In the middle of the wind, a small, decisive woman suddenly appeared, followed by a white child.

The woman shot a disgusted glance around her and entered the house. Despite the fact that the outside was like any other mansion, the inside of the house resembled the ancient castles of Japan. When she passed in front of them, two skeletons in armour bowed respectfully.

The woman glared at them, annoyed; but a look of disgust crossed her face as she noticed who was drawing near her. A gigantic snake was approaching from the inside courtyard. The eyes that met her own were cold and unreadable.

~Kagura... Masssssssster wantsss to know iffffff your misssssssssion was a successssss~ it hissed.

~Feh... he asked YOU to tell me? Where was Kanna? Couldn't Naraku check my movements in the normal way?~

The demon was glaring at the serpent with a look of complete and utter loathing. She walked through the wide courtyard, entered the corridor within, and crossed to the steps to go upstairs.

~Nagini, the mission was a full success,~ the white child said, with his usual unemotional tone. The serpent stopped next to him and lifted its head to meet the boy's eyes.

~Hakudosssssshi, are you ssssssure that nobody ssssssaw you?~

~Quite sure.. It wasn't difficult at all. Nobody was there other than the Minister. That man fell at my knees almost immediately after I used the curse tha... hem, Voldemort told me,~ the woman said in Parseltongue.

She turned on her 'dear companion'. "Why did you intervene?"

The boy gave her an icy glare in return, and Kagura bit her lip.. Hakudoshi wasn't the best companion she could ever dream of, but he was better than that serpent. Then, when Voldemort merged with Naraku, that damn animal became almost a double of the one she was forced to obey. Whenever she was inside the castle she could feel Nagini's cold gaze on her, and she didn't like it at all. It was as if the serpent was controlling her... and evaluating her. She couldn't stand it.

Kagura finally came to a halt outside the door of the big room on the first floor. She slid the door open and entered.

"So, Kagura, you completed your mission."

A deep voice resounded within the almost empty room. The place was furnished very simply; there were only a few things inside, as if someone were staying there, but not living there. It was wrapped in darkness. In the dim background light, she could see a man with his gaze fixed on her; his beautiful red eyes expressed a cruelty greater even than Kagura, herself a demon, could ever feel.

"Yes, Naraku. It was easier than we thought. Hakudoshi almost got him, but the Minister was still trying to resist, so in the end I controlled him with the Imperius Curse. Anyway, he's under our control now."

"Good." The man was seated cross-legged on floor covered by Japanese matting. Nagini slid towards him, and he caressed the snake's head as if it had been a puppy. "You may go, Kagura."

The demon turned, but before she could leave, Naraku continued: "...but keep this in mind. Nagini is loyal to me. You must respect her just as you respect me."

Kagura turned around suddenly at this, hatred clear to be read in her eyes. "How can you say that? The animal only follows you because you meddled with its owner. What makes it better than us?"

"Don't argue with my orders, Kagura. Keep in mind that you are merely one of my creations - even as I created you, so can I destroy you, taking you back into my own body."

Suddenly, half-hidden in the darkness, a live and beating thing could be glimpsed in Naraku's grasp. Kagura's face contorted with pain and she put a hand to her breast, sweating, and fell to her knees, groaning as if an iron grip had seized her heart.

"Remember, Kagura, who you are. Remember that your heart belongs to me... just a little more would be enough..." The man increased his hold and the woman stifled a moan, while her face turned as white as a sheet.

"Yes, Naraku... I'm yours to command..." she murmured painfully. The throbbing thing in her master's hand disappeared, and Kagura breathed again. She stood up, and glared at Nagini for a long moment, hatred in her eyes. The serpent answered with a silent hiss that no human could hear, showing her its forked tongue.

"But one thing, Naraku-" she said before going out of the room, turning back to her master. Now her heart was no longer in Naraku's hands she felt better.

"What is it, Kagura?"

"I understand the order about the two of us - but the... fourth-year? Isn't he a bit young?"

Naraku smiled. "In the fourth year... there's someone I have the possibility of controlling. The age is irrelevant. Now go away."

Kagura bowed her head and left the room, followed by the white boy, who closed the sliding door behind him.

"How is it going?" Naraku asked when he was sure Kagura had left, raising his voice slightly. It was as calm and cold as ever. "Is the treatment working?"

"Yes, Lord Naraku," came the reply in a monotone.

"Are you learning the new language?"

"Yes, Lord Naraku."

"Do you think you can comply with your mission?"

"Yes, Lord Naraku."

"Good."

A flash of lightning lit the room. Outside, the first sound of rain filled the air; and near the window, the momentary brightness revealed the vague figure of a young boy.