Hidden Truth: The Mysterious Girl

Chapter One: Dudley’s Letter

A cloaked man raised his wand to perform a curse, but he was quickly interrupted by a small man who, though still rather young, was balding in the top of his head and had pasty, wrinkly skin. Annoyed, the cloaked man turned around and demanded with an air of impatience what the cause was for this interruption.

“S-sorry, sir, b-but I th-think his information might be . . . useful.” The small man was wringing his hands nervously.

“Explain yourself, Wormtail,” said the man’s strangely high-pitched cold voice.

The man cringed. “M-maybe you can use this girl to trap the boy. . . .”

“You heard this pathetic excuse for a man. The boy knows nothing about her. And I have no more time or patience to waste on another foolish scheme.”

“N-no, sir, I’m s-sure it will work.”

The cloaked man looked very coldly at his cowardly servant. “Perhaps . . .” he hissed softly. “If this plan of yours fails, Wormtail, I shall make you pay. Of course, cowardly though you may be, even you know to fear the wrath of Lord Voldemort. . . .”

He looked down at the man on floor, only the man was no longer there. Voldemort gave a small gasp of surprise. He quickly gained control of the situation and, in a series of clicks and hisses, ordered his snake Nagini to search the house for the man.

“Fool,” Voldemort said softly. “He thinks he can escape me. Well, he will find out soon enough. . . .”

These words were followed by a cruel laugh, the laugh that had haunted the nightmares of Harry Potter for fifteen years. . . .

Harry quickly sat up, reaching for his glasses in the dimly lit room. He felt the familiar sear of pain in the lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and absently rubbed at it.

There was no way for him to tell whether or not this dream had been real or not. Only last year Voldemort had discovered that he could control Harry’s mind, and make him think things were true that were merely part of Voldemort’s plan to deceive him. He had thought his godfather was being tortured and gone to rescue him when in fact, he had been playing right into Voldemort’s hands.

But why would Voldemort want to show him this? He was clearly devising another way to defeat him. Surely he wouldn’t want Harry to see that? Harry tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. Now he wished more than anything that he had tried to learn Occlumency from Professor Snape. If he had, he would never have had the dream. What if Voldemort tried to use him to spy on the Order of the Phoenix?

Wait . . . the Order! The man Voldemort had been about to kill had been Mundungus Fletcher, of the Order of the Phoenix! Suddenly Harry felt sick. Mundungus was not exactly the most trustworthy man. He was a known criminal and he was not very responsible. Last year when he was supposed to be watching over Harry, he had left and let dementors attack Harry and his cousin Dudley. This worried Harry. What kind of information might Mundungus give to the Dark Side, if in fact the dream was true?

He thought of sending a letter to his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but he somehow didn’t think this was a good idea. Hermione would only remind him that the last time he had a dream like this, You-Know-Who had been playing with his mind. Ron would tell him to alert Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whom Harry was sure would think he should have studied Occlumency the previous year. And of course his friends from the Order, Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Arthur Weasley, would also want to let the headmaster know.

None of this would have happened if I had just put my feelings aside and studied Occlumency, he thought bitterly. But so should Snape, reasoned another voice. He had no right to just kick me out of his office like that. He left the stupid Pensieve all out in the open. Maybe if Snape wasn’t so stupid, Sirius would still be alive. . . .

Harry’s heart immediately filled with remorse and sorrow. He missed his godfather more than anything, and he felt horrible every time he thought about him. However, Sirius was all he’d been able to think about all summer, which made his summer particularly miserable. This was saying a lot, because he had to live with the Dursleys, the only relatives he had left, every summer. For every summer, as far back as he could remember, they had done everything in their power to make sure he was as uncomfortable and unhappy as humanly possible. Luckily for him, they hadn’t been quite as bad this summer, for fear that the members of the Order would show up on Privet Drive.

Just as he was thinking this, an owl fluttered at his window. Harry rolled out of bed and walked across the room to open it. Just as he expected, living in the wizarding world, there was a letter tied to the owl’s leg. No sooner had he untied the letter than the owl soared back out the window and disappeared into the sky.

Harry tore open the letter and started to read it.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope your aunt and uncle haven’t been as horrible to you as they have been in the past. I daresay Mad-Eye’s still feeling up to his threat to your uncle if they haven’t been watching the way they treat you. But judging by the look of terror on your aunt’s face, I assume they haven’t done anything too horrible to you.

The Order’s hard at work here (yes, we’re still using the usual headquarters). But don’t worry, nothing too big has happened with you-know-what. The place is rather empty without . . . you know, Sirius, but I guess you already expected that.

Hang in there, Harry. Just a little while longer—we’ll be coming to get you soon. But Dumbledore still wishes you to remain at your aunt and uncle’s for a while. I don’t know why, but Dumbledore usually has his reasons.

Enjoy the rest of your holiday,

Remus

Harry sighed and put the letter on his bedside table. Harry knew why Dumbledore wanted him to stay at the Dursleys’ during the summer, but that didn’t make it easier. To avoid being afraid of the Order showing up on their doorstep, the Dursleys had resorted to their favorite technique of completely ignoring him. This was a great relief from their previous summers of torture, but he felt completely isolated from the rest of the wizarding world, stuck here on Privet Drive.

He crossed the room and unlocked his door to peer out into the rest of the house. The Dursleys were still asleep. After all, it was only dawn; the sun had barely risen. He expected they would be up soon, and he was not exactly looking forward to it. Realizing he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep, Harry got dressed.

All the clothes he had were much too big for him, as they had belonged to his cousin Dudley, who now outweighed the zoo’s newest young elephant. However, the clothes now fit him better than they ever had; he had grown considerably over the summer in height, though he was still as skinny as he had always been. He pulled on a pair of worn out jeans and a baggy T-shirt and sat down on his bed, waiting for the sun to completely rise.

Then, deciding it would be better to make a quick exit before the Dursleys awoke, he got up and climbed down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could. When he reached the front door, he reached out for the doorknob, but stopped when an odd sound reached his ears.

Harry remembered that the last time he had heard a strange noise on Privet Drive, it had been something magical, and the Dursleys had nearly strangled him, convinced that it had been he who had made the noise. But what kind of magical object or creature made that kind of noise? Harry strained his ears and followed the direction of the sound. The sound led him to the kitchen, and he was taken aback by the source of the noise.

“Dudley?”

Dudley Dursley looked even more like a pig than usual. His fat face was bright pink, and his beady little eyes were shining. He gave a great sniffle that sounded like the sucking of a liposuction tube.

“What do you want?” Dudley mumbled in a slurred voice.

“Er—are you okay?” he asked awkwardly, stunned to see his cousin in this state. He walked over to get a closer look.

“Don’t come over here,” he mumbled ferociously. He looked as if he would attack if Harry came any closer.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, ignoring Dudley’s sudden ferocity. “I heard you er—crying.”

“Don’t act like you care,” Dudley snapped.

Just then, Harry’s Aunt Petunia walked into the kitchen, pushing Harry aside. “What’s the matter with my poor Diddykins?” Aunt Petunia crooned. “Mummy heard you crying all the way upstairs.” She looked at Harry for the first time all summer. “Was it . . . him?”

Dudley shook his head.

“Then what is it, Dudders?” asked Uncle Vernon, who had just appeared in the doorway.

“Letter,” he mumbled, pushing a piece of paper at them.

Uncle Vernon rushed over to the table and picked up the letter. Aunt Petunia read over his shoulder. “Dear Mr. Dudley Dursley,” Uncle Vernon muttered aloud, “After reviewing your performance at Smeltings over the last two years, we have determined that you have failed twelve classes and that your overall average is a D-. We have also received several complaints about your behavior, both with the teachers and the other students. You have been warned prior to this letter that you risked expulsion from Smeltings if you did not pass your semester of probation. With that said, we have no choice but to remove you permanently from Smeltings High School. We deeply regret the decision and hope that you continue to reach for higher academic goals in your new school of choice. If you have any questions, please contact John Kettleman, headmaster of Smeltings.”

There was a long silence in which the words of the letter sunk in. Then Aunt Petunia fell to the floor and shrieked, “Nooooooo, Dudley, it can’t be true! It just can’t be true!” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“There, there, Petunia,” said Uncle Vernon, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Petunia, Dudley, I’ll call up this Kettleman bloke and have this whole matter settled in no time.”

“B-but I don’t understand,” Aunt Petunia said, letting Uncle Vernon help her up. “He’s so smart and he’s made tons of friends. There’s nothing wrong with his behavior. He’s really very sweet, aren’t you Diddykins?” With that, she let out another loud wail and Uncle Vernon led her into the sitting room.

“Well, Dud, I guess your days of beating up little kids have finally caught up to you, haven’t they?” Harry said coldly.

He then walked out of the kitchen and out of the house that had made his life miserable for fifteen long years.