Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 843: Meeting Harry

Regardless of the answer, this was not a good thing, and it meant that Voldemort had taken action against him!

Harry had no other choice but to stay with the Dursleys pitifully, praying that the Ministry of Magic would not expel him.

This kind of powerlessness made him very irritated, and the only one who was more irritated than him was Uncle Vernon.

Not surprisingly, after Uncle Vernon finally figured out that the man who’d killed Harry’s parents had returned, and that the Dementor who had just attacked his precious son had come to chase Harry, he immediately decided to drive Harry out of the house.

Uncle Vernon reacted to Harry’s expectation, but what really surprised him was that they soon received another owl letter, a Howler, and it was addressed to Aunt Petunia.

After a long time delay without opening, the red envelope burst into flames, and an awful voice came from the burning letter that fell on the table, filling the entire kitchen, echoing in the confined space. It was only one sentence.

“REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA!”

Harry didn’t understand what this meant. Remember the last what?

And why was Aunt Petunia in touch with a wizard he didn’t know about?

When Harry talked about Voldemort, she also understood the meaning of the name at once, and knew Azkaban and the Dementors.

For the very first time in his life, Harry fully appreciated that Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister.

He couldn’t have said why this hit him so very powerfully at this moment. All he knew was that he was not the only person in the room who had an inkling of what Lord Voldemort being back might mean…

What also surprised Harry was the reaction of Aunt Petunia. After hearing those words, she quickly regained her usual brisk, snappish manner, persuading Uncle Vernon, who was a little bit exhausted, to agree and let Harry stay.

She ordered Harry to go to bed, and Harry had been lying down since last night.

Three times a day, Aunt Petunia shoved food into his room through the cat flap which Uncle Vernon had installed three summers ago.

Every time Harry heard her approaching, he tried to question her about the Howler, but he might as well have interrogated the doorknob for all the answers he got.

Except for food delivery, the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom.

Harry couldn’t see the point of forcing his company on them either; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps making him so angry he would perform more illegal magic.

Harry wrote letters to Sirius, Evan, Ron, and Hermione. He wanted to know what was going on and when he could get out of here. He sent Hedwig out, but up to now, there had been no reply, just like before.

Harry sighed again and fell heavily on the bed, ready to numb himself by sleeping.

So it went on for three whole days. Harry was filled alternatively with restless energy that made him unable to settle to anything.

He just paced up and down in the bedroom, furious at the whole lot of them for leaving him to stew in this mess, and with a lethargy so complete that he could lie on his bed for an hour at a time, staring dazedly into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing.

What if they ruled against him?

What if he was expelled and his wand was snapped in half?

What would he do, where would he go?

He could not return to living full-time with the Dursleys, not now that he knew the other world, the one to which he really belonged. So, could he move into Sirius’s house?

Sirius had mentioned this suggestion more than once. But every summer vacation, he had a lot of things to do, and he accompanied Evan to adventure all over the world.

Harry wanted to follow, too, but they didn’t take him at all.

This made Harry very dissatisfied with Evan and Sirius, even angry, but there was no other way.

Evan had explained to him before that his mother had left a magic when she died that year. As long as he stayed with the Dursleys for a period of time each year, this magic would continue to work and protect him from Voldemort until his adulthood.

That was also the main reason why Harry could hold on and not fly directly to find Sirius with his trunk tied to the broomstick.

At the same time, Harry was angry with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore refused to tell him anything, and his attitude became apparently cold. At the end of last term, he wanted to talk to Dumbledore but was rejected. He obviously did a lot of things to prove that he was trustworthy. Even if he was not as strong as Evan, he was much better than Ron, Hermione and others.

On the fourth night after Hedwig’s departure, Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom.

Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

“We’re going out, boy!” he said.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“We … that is to say, your aunt, Dudley and I … are going out.”

“Fine,” said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling.

“You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away.”

“Okay.”

“You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions.”

“Right.”

“You are not to steal food from the fridge.”

“No problem,” Harry said listlessly, and Uncle Vernon looked at him suspiciously.

“I am going to lock your door.”

“Okay, you do that.”

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument, then stomped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Harry heard the key turn in the lock and Uncle Vernon’s footsteps walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later, he heard the slamming of car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakable sound of the car sweeping out of the drive.

Harry had no particular feeling about the Dursleys leaving. He was the only one left in this house, but it made no difference to him whether they were in the house or not. He could not even summon the energy to get up and turn on his bedroom light.

The room grew steadily darker around him as he lay listening to the sounds around him.

The empty house creaked around him and the pipes gurgled.

Harry lay there in a kind of stupor, thinking of nothing, suspended in misery.

He forced himself to sleep. That was how he’d spent the past few days.

Then he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Someone came in.

The Dursleys couldn’t be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn’t heard their car.

Harry sat up and snatched up his wand from his bedside table. Was it a thief or a minion of Voldemort?!

Next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open.

In the dimness, he saw a familiar figure walk in, it was Evan!

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