𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ☆ 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑛 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

𝑌𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅 ☆ 1

The Riddle house, as it was called, had been empty for around fifty years. The villagers of Little Hangleton, however, had long forgotten the big house on the outskirts was there. The Riddles had died mysteriously at that time, and no one had known what the cause of death was. The person accused of the murder, the gardener named Frank, who still lived in his little cottage on the grounds of the house, had to be released after there was no evidence he had killed them.

Even though he knew he didn't do it, the whole village was convinced that he did. So he normally kept to himself in his cottage and rarely spoke to anyone.

Right now, Frank was lighting his stove and putting his kettle on it. He was just about to put his tea leaves in his tea when he saw something strange.

As previously mentioned, the Riddle House had been empty for years. The lights had always been off and dust had settled on every surface a hundred times over.

But tonight, as Frank gazed out the window, a light was on in the upper levels of the huge house. He frowned. No one else had keys to the house except him, and no one was allowed in the house. It didn't stop teens sometimes breaking in as a joke sometimes though.

So, muttering, "bloody kids," he got a lamp and his keys and went outside. He climbed through the garden and up to the house. He fumbled with the key for a second before entering the house.

It had been years since he had been in there, and it was hard for him, but he took it in his stride. He climbed stairs, walked along landings and eventually got to the corridor that had the room with the light on.

He heard voices coming from it. These definitely weren't kids.

"How fastidious you've become, Wormtail," said a hissing, cold voice. "As I recall, you-"

Frank was too busy trying not to make noise when they were talking, but he did hear more.

"No, no, no, my Lord," A stuttery, scared person spoke. "I- I just meant- If we were, perhaps, to do it without the girl-"

"No! The girl is everything!" The cold voice rasped. "It cannot be done without her, and it will be done exactly how I say."

Frank could finally see who was in the room. There was a short man with a large amount of stubble on his unshaven face, a man with dark hair and a round, pale face. But Frank couldn't see the man with the cold, raspy voice.

"I will not disappoint you, My Lord," The man with the pale face asked.

"Good," Another rasp.

Frank was soon distracted again by something on the ground. He looked down, and saw a green, scaly snake slithering on the ground. It was huge, massive. And it was headed for the room.

As soon as the snake entered the room, there was a loud hissing. It was a female voice, but distorted into a language few could understand.

The cold hissing voice spoke. "Nagini tells me the old muggle caretaker is standing just outside the room."

The short and scared man appeared right in the doorway and Frank shrank back. Every ounce of courage and defiance had been knocked out of him. The cold voice said. "Stand back, Wormtail, so I can give our guest a proper greeting...

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light came from nowhere and engulfed Frank. He was dead before he could cry out, and his kettle on the stove rang in Rosalyn Potter's ears as she woke up.

☆☆☆

"Rosalyn?"

Hermione Granger stood by her best friend's bed with a candle in hand. Rosalyn was flailing about, her left hand attached to her right forearm, her eyes were shut, and winced in pain.