Master Of Shadows

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Master Of Shadows

Chapter One: A Strange Lot

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According to Harry James Potter, who was lying flat upon his back in the grass, spending the summer holidays at the Dursleys' family home was the worst thing that a wizard his age could possibly come across. Nothing he had ever felt could compare to this feeling of uselessness and he was frustrated with it. Fed up with it was an even better expression - to Harry it was, anyway - and that was why he was doing nothing just like he had done ever since he had gotten back from Hogwarts.

He sighed and seated himself upright, looking around the immaculate garden of the Dursleys. Not a tuft of grass was in the wrong place and the flowers seemed to come straight out of a catalogue rather than to have grown naturally. Harry hated the garden and the work he usually had to do in the flowerbeds. Usually, but not this time around.

Apparently uncle Vernon had thought long and hard about it - that was, if he could do anything that could be compared to thinking - and had come to the conclusion that Mad-Eye Moody had looked dangerous enough to harm him. So this was why Harry did not have to do any house chores, and it pleased him beyond belief to see uncle Vernon panting when he mowed the grass.

But still Harry was not happy. How could he be, considering what had happened in the Department of Mysteries at the end of the school year? How could he possibly be happy while Sirius was not there anymore?

It was as if a cold stone had positioned itself upon his heart after Sirius had died. Even long walks around the lake at school and around the neighborhood later on had not done anything to take the feeling of guilt away from him. He knew that Sirius' death was technically speaking not his fault... but it felt like that in any other way. He was somewhat guilty - though not completely - and he could not forgive himself for that.

Before his mind could go further in this endless cycle of thoughts and guilt, however, Harry found himself startled and surprised by noises coming out of the garden of the neighbors. This was strange for their previous neighbors had moved a while ago to a large house outside of town, and Harry had not been aware of any potential buyers of the house even though he had been present at the Dursleys' home at all times. He rushed back into the house, not caring about aunt Petunia's screams as she saw Harry's muddy footsteps all over her kitchen floor, and straight out of the door where he stopped as a very strange sight greeted him.

An old and rusty white van was standing right in front of the neighbors' home, packed with all things you could possibly imagine. Things were perched on top of the van (such as a couch and two chairs) as well as standing around it, and seeing as there were no other vans in the street that suggested that people were moving into number six, Privet Drive, it had to be the only vehicle the new neighbors had used to get here. Harry could not even begin to imagine what a journey it had been for them to get here in the van - if they had fitted in there at all - and he found himself getting more and more curious about the people. His questions were soon answered as a boy around Harry's own age came out of the empty house and started to move the three bicycles in order to get to some boxes that were lying around. The boy looked around and smiled as he saw Harry.

"Hello there," he said friendly, and Harry nodded back. "Are you going to be our new neighbor?"

"I am, if you are really moving into number six," Harry replied.

"Good, good," the boy said. "Mum will be pleased. She said that I needed some new friends in town and that we would perhaps have a family with children my age next door," he continued, glancing back at the house as he spoke. "Do you know if there are any other teenagers apart from us around here?"

"Well, there is always my cousin Dudley," Harry said and grimaced, "but you would not want to be friends with him. Unless," he added, looking thoughtful, "heavy-weight and stupid pigs are your type of friends."

The boy laughed heartily.

"Nay, they are not," he reassured Harry before winking and continuing: "I eat such people for dinner."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. He almost got tears in his eyes when he thought about this tall but thin boy eating Dudley and actually enjoying it. Helplessly, the boy also began to laugh and put the box he had been moving down.

"I am Eran," he said and extended his hand to Harry. "You?"

"Harry," Harry replied, shaking the boy's hand.

But then Eran jumped and grabbed the box up again, for a voice had rang out loud and clear from the house. It was a woman's voice, sounding annoyed and stressed, and Eran gestured back at the house.

"My Mum," he said as a means of explanation. "She told me to grab a hold of these boxes quickly. Do you want to help me? At least I'll have an alibi if she asks me where I was..."

"Sure," Harry said. Not just because he liked the boy, but also because he was curious to find out more about Eran's family. "I'll help you out."

So Harry grabbed a box too, pleased that he could do something on this dull day, and followed Eran up the lawn into the house. It was nothing like Harry had expected it to be. He stole a brief glance around the hallway that was now filled up to the ceiling with more boxes and furniture but it still looked interesting to an outsider like him before Eran led him to the kitchen.

"There you are!" the same female voice said, this time relieved. "What took you so long? And who is this?"

"This is Harry, Mum," Eran said. "He lives next door."

Harry found himself facing Eran's mother moments later. Her appearance came as a shock to him, for he had been expecting a thin and stick-like woman instead of the plump and motherly form - much like Mrs. Weasley - he saw before him now. Eran's mum was round-faced; with dark hair tied back in a loose bun, and had mischievous, sparkling blue eyes that reminded Harry painfully of Sirius. Overall she looked really friendly and Harry took an instant liking to her.

"It is good to see that you had a reason to stay away for that long," she said to Eran, who glanced briefly at Harry with a look upon his face that strongly suggested the words 'I told you so'. Then she turned to Harry and said: "Put those two boxes over there, dear. We have such a mess, two more things won't make a difference."

Harry put the boxes where she had told him to put them and, when he had put them down, had a good look around the room. It was painted white now (the old inhabitants had left the house in its yellow state) and it was absolutely filled with boxes. It was a mystery to Harry where they were going to put all of that and he was about to ask it, right before he realized that this was not his own home. The only furniture present in the mess was an old wooden table and a matching chair that looked so fragile that Harry was afraid to fall through it if he would seat himself upon it.

"Yes, I know we have to clean up," Eran's mum said, catching Harry's look. "This is such a small house, too," she added as an afterthought, "but my husband wanted a tinier place to live in. I've never been good at throwing things away so we had to take everything with us."

"Where are you going to put all of it?" Harry asked, knowing that the question was inevitable. "I mean, for a house like this you have an awful lot of things standing around. They won't all fit in."

"We'll just shrink a few then," Eran said and shrugged. "When we need them, we'll enlarge them. Right Mum?"

"That's correct," his mother replied with a smile. "Don't worry about it, Harry. We'll find a place for everything. That's how we got here, too. We shrunk the boxes to fit inside of the van. The couch couldn't be put inside anymore so we put it upon the roof with a Sticking Charm."

"You're magical?" Harry asked, eyes lighting up. "I thought that there was something peculiar about it all! Did Dumbledore send you?"

"No, but we have been in touch with him. And you, you're Harry Potter..."

"Yes," Harry said, now slightly embarrassed. "I guess that you saw the scar then."

"That, and we knew that you lived here," Eran confessed. "We wanted to meet you, help you if we could, before you went back to Hogwarts."

"Where do you go to school then?"

"I went to Durmstrang but it was attacked a few weeks ago," Eran replied. "Now I'll go to Hogwarts as well." Then, at seeing Harry's surprised and shocked look, he asked: "Didn't you know about that?"

"No," Harry said after recovering from the initial shock, "I didn't know anything about that. I don't get in touch with the wizarding world during the summer holidays."

"You-Know-Who attacked Durmstrang," Eran's mum said briskly, "and Igor Karkaroff was forced to flee the country. I think that you have met Karkaroff," she said and, at seeing Harry's confirming nod, smiled. "He was a good Headmaster, he was, but he just did not always have the right ideas."

"Tell me about it," Harry mumbled, recalling the Dark Mark he had seen upon Karkaroff's arm. "I'm glad to see that you're going to Hogwarts," he said then, turning to Eran. "It's the best school in the world!"

"We'll see," Eran said but he smiled as he said it. "It's brilliant to know somebody already, though," he continued, brightening up. "Can you tell me something about Hogwarts?"

"Sure," Harry replied enthusiastically, glad to have someone he could talk to.

The afternoon passed with laughter and much talk about the two schools. Harry found out that Eran, at Durmstrang, had excelled greatly at Potions and Dark Arts while he had been absolutely terrible in the Herbology field. Eran was very interested in the Houses of Hogwarts and Harry provided as much information as he possibly could - meanwhile wishing that Hermione was here - but under Eran's inquisitive questions even Harry had found his limits in explaining everything.

Eran's mum, who had introduced herself as Seraphine, meanwhile provided lemonade and chocolate cookies for the boys to eat up outside. She had listened for a while too when Harry was explaining something about Hufflepuff but had then scoffed and walked off.

Quidditch caught Eran's attention more than anything and soon the boys were talking about the wizarding sport together. Eran told Harry that he had been a Beater and Harry spoke about his Seeker experiences, which resulted in loud and helpless laughter from both of them every once in a while. Apparently Eran had once gotten into a fistfight in the middle of a match with the Chaser of the other team, after which he had been suspended from playing, while Harry told Eran all about Draco Malfoy.

The teenager didn't seem to care about Malfoy, however, and was soon asking about Harry's own friends. Harry told Eran all about the Weasleys - especially Ron and Ginny surfaced in these stories a lot - and of course about Hermione. He even found himself telling Eran about Luna Lovegood, something he had never bothered to share with others because that information didn't seem to be so interesting. Still Eran listened attentively and was the best audience Harry, and quite possibly when they had returned to school also Hermione, could ever wish or hope for.

To Harry's immense disappointment Seraphine came and told him that he should go over to the Dursleys before he would get into trouble. And despite Eran's promises to continue the talk tomorrow he walked to number four with a heavy heart.

"Where have you been?"

Aunt Petunia, as always, was cooking dinner when he arrived. Harry shut the door behind him and sighed.

"I've been next door," he said. "Did you know that we have new neighbors?"

"Of course I do," aunt Petunia snapped. "They're a strange lot, arriving in that terrible van with more furniture than I have ever seen in my life. It will never fit within their home."

"They said it would," Harry shrugged, unwilling to tell aunt Petunia that it was a wizarding family. "They're really friendly. They have a boy my age."

"Who would want to be friends with you?" Dudley asked, tearing his eyes off the television screen for a change. "I will go round tomorrow too. I'll show that boy who he should mingle with."

Harry did not know why he laughed then. Perhaps it was because Dudley was glaring at him - which looked very ridiculous - or perhaps because he had remembered Eran's words. 'I eat such people for dinner', he had said to Harry. It had seemed stupid to him back then but now he feared that Eran would certainly scare Dudley, even if he did not use magic.

"Go right ahead," Harry said pleasantly. "I was planning on spending my time there anyway."

And, still smiling, Harry seated himself at the table next to uncle Vernon, who had not said anything so far, thinking about the things tomorrow would bring.

The next morning Harry woke up very early. When he finally heard aunt Petunia move around in the kitchen he went down for breakfast. To his immense surprise Dudley was already there, drinking a glass of milk, but Harry just drank a glass of milk while standing and then ate a sandwich he made for himself.

"You ready?" he asked Dudley. "I guess that the neighbors are up already, so we can go there now."

"Fine," Dudley shrugged.

The two boys left number four after they had gotten dressed and walked over to number six, careful not to step upon the bicycles that were now lying across the grass. Harry rang the doorbell once, twice, and then waited patiently.

"Hello, Harry," Seraphine said when she had unlocked and opened the door. "Eran isn't awake yet. I'll call for him, okay?"

"Yes, thanks," Harry said. "This is my cousin Dudley."

"Hello, nice to meet you," Seraphine said and smiled at Dudley. "Well, don't just stand there! Come in! Come in!"

The two boys followed Seraphine down the hallway that still had boxes in it (though not as much as before) and into the living room. The couch that had been perched on top of the van yesterday was now standing next to the window, together with two other chairs that Harry had not seen yet, and the small glass table seemed to break under the weight of two heavy-looking boxes. The old wooden table that had been in the kitchen yesterday was now standing in the middle of the living room and had even more boxes positioned upon it than Harry had seen yesterday, something that seemed impossible by just thinking about it, but those boxes were already half unpacked. Still it looked more like a home than the Dursleys had ever managed to create for themselves, and it was because of this that Harry felt that he belonged here.

"Hey Harry," Eran's voice said from behind him. "How're you doing?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry said, turning around. "Dudley, this is Eran. Eran, meet Dudley."

"Hey there, Dudley," Eran said with a neutral tone sneaking into his voice. To Harry, who had heard Eran speak yesterday, it seemed as if Eran usually tended to use a lot of emotion when he talked but had now lost all of that emotion and was made out of solid rock. "Come to check us out, have you?"

"Yes," Dudley said, regaining his sense of speech. "So, where do you come from? Where's your father?"

"You're asking a hell of a lot there," Eran said with a soft but dangerous undertone present in his voice. "Still, I shall answer your questions. We come from Bulgaria, though I was born in Scotland, and my father is dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Dudley said this to Eran, but it was clear that he didn't mean it. Eran sighed and, having noticed Dudley's insincerity, just said:

"No, you're not."

Then Eran turned to Harry, who hadn't said anything so far, and asked:

"Is he always so rude?"

"Nearly always," Harry laughed, glad to see that Eran thought the same way about Dudley. "And the times when he isn't rude are the times when he is asleep, watching TV, or eating more than anyone else in the room."

Eran laughed, and so did his mother. Dudley directed a glare at Harry but instead of commenting on it, Harry ignored his cousin and laughed along with the others. Wiping the tears out of his eyes with his sleeve, still hiccupping with laughter, Harry did not dare to look at Dudley again.

"I must be going," Dudley suddenly said. "I have an appointment with the boys."

"Don't forget to kiss them goodbye when you take them home," Eran replied. "And be a good boy, Dudley. I hope that your mummy warned you against that new mass murderer who is on the loose."

"M-mass m-m-murderer?" Dudley asked, voice trembling. "W-where?"

"In Britain," Eran replied vaguely. "I heard that he was coming to Surrey. I hope," he said; smile breaking out on his face, "that he pays a visit to this town. It needs some excitement."

Dudley paled visibly, while Harry tried not to laugh. Seraphine ignored her son and continued with the unpacking of the boxes. Dudley inched closer to the door but Eran noticed and continued:

"It is said that he only murders teenage boys around our age. He only attacks them in groups, you know, especially if they harm little girls. I heard on the news that he's got a little sister and that if he sees boys attack little girls, he thinks of his sister and kills the boys."

"I heard something about that too," Harry suddenly said. "He always lets the smallest boy live to tell the tale of the murder. With your gang, Dudders, it's impossible to tell who is the smallest. Maybe it is Piers Polkiss, who knows, but it is certainly not you."

"I h-have to g-g-go," Dudley said with a squeak in his voice. "I'll s-see you around."

He turned his back on them and left the room, walking through the hallway. Seraphine suddenly grabbed something off the table and went after Dudley. They heard a shout, and a slam of the door, before Seraphine returned to the living room.

"He didn't want the chocolate cookie," Seraphine said and shrugged. "Do you want to have it, Harry?"

Harry nodded wordlessly as he dissolved into laughter. Eran took one look at Harry before laughing along with him and, out of pure confusion and surprise; Seraphine began to laugh, too.

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