The Dark Prince's Coronation

Chapter I

On the top of a hill was a manor that overlooked the village. Its windows were boarded, tiles missing from the roof, and ivy was spreading unchecked along its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House now laid damp, derelict, and unoccupied. Which is why the community of Little Hangleton was surprised to see truckload after truckload of construction drive towards it. Trucks carrying lumber, words, metal, tools—everything needed to build a home was making their way through Little Hangleton towards the manor. Whispers started to grow around the community of a new owner for the manor. A boy of just seventeen who looked to be a relative of the poor Riddles who tragically died in that manor nearly half a century ago. Curiosity grew in the village as people started to make the trek up to the forgotten manor to catch a glimpse of the teen. People were coming back with stories of his handsomeness, of his tall figure and aristocratic face, of his hair as black as night and dark eyes that seemed to mesmerize anyone that falls under their gaze. Soon more and more people made the trip to the manor, peaking through shrubbery and fences, all in hopes of seeing the mesmerizing Riddle. He stood tall wearing a dark button-down shirt and black dress pants despite it being the beginning of summer. He seemed to be a person cloaked in mystery as his eyes never lingered from the propped-up table with multiple blueprints. The workers never seemed to wonder or think it odd that a seventeen year old was heading the project as they took the manor down brick by brick, saving what they could and throwing out the rest. Two weeks past like this, the young villagers (mostly girls around the mysterious boy's age) flocked to the manor to watch the teen stand in front of blueprints, giving orders to the workers as they tore down the old Riddle Manor.

Stories about the boy began to rise about the boy. Some say that he is a long-lost relative, a grandson from a secret wedlock that just learned of his lineage. While others say that he is a distant cousin greedy for the Riddle prestige. Whoever the boy is, the entire village agreed that he was a complete mystery, especially when not a week later the last of the manor was taken down, leaving nothing but space and foundation, and another man came. This man looked older than the boy, much older, and was wearing a cloak over his clothes. The man and teen talked frequently, the man bowing down to the boy and calling him "master." Perhaps he was a butler or servant? That only made the young teens more curious, some of them wanted to get close to the teen. Maybe he'll hire them once the manor was finished? That way they would be close, and the mysterious teen would know their name.

The teen and butler stayed in a small cottage that seemed to spring up overnight. Only the bravest of the citizens would make their way to the cottage, but never look in.

One day, the teen seemed to disappear entirely from the construction site, leaving only the butler. That disappointed the villagers (especially the ambitious girls) but it only added to the rumor mill about his identity. Maybe he was in trouble with the law and had to hide, or maybe his family doesn't know of the project and had to run away for a while. Maybe he went on vacation with his lover, an innocent fair girl who had a humble upbringing. The rumors about the boy with the mesmerizing eyes continued to grow and grow, each one more fantastical than the last. Then the owls started coming.

.

Tom smirked to himself. It was really all too easy. He picked a couple from random to play the role of his parents and after a few choice words, he had permission to stay at the Burrow with the Weasleys, and by extension, Harry. There was no way he would allow his prince to be separate from him during the summer. There were too many variables to look out for, too many ways for Dumbledore to find out about Harry's affinity to the Dark Arts, to the Dark Lord. Besides, it is beneficial to learn more about your enemy. It was also to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Weasley agreed that Tom would come and stay two weeks after summer break began, during which he began one of his long-term projects. The Dark Lord needed a proper manor, a proper headquarters, if he was going to rule. What better place than Riddle Manor? He would wipe away any traces of his muggle relatives and transform it into a manor fit for the Dark Lord and his beloved Prince. To escape suspicion from the wizarding world he decided to let muggles construct it with a wizard under his control supervise the project.

The Burrow, in Tom's opinion, was somewhat impressive. It was a rather tall wooden house that seemed to be holding addition after addition without any thought of design and held up by magic. It seems that most of the Weasley clan was there except for three, one of which is apparently a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, the other a Dragon Keeper in Romania, and the third is not on talking terms with the rest of the family. Draco and Ronald were the ones who welcomed him. "Tom, there you are mate," Ron grinned. "Harry isn't here, we're supposed to pick him up in two weeks but in the mean time you can make yourself at home."

"Thank you very much Ronald," Tom said, smiling politely. "Draco, it is good to see you in good health."

"Thank you… Tom," the Malfoy said. Tom gave him a polite smile and looked up at the Burrow. "So this is your home, Ron? I must say, it is impressive," Tom said.

"But it needs a lot of chores," Draco huffed.

"Yeah… it's more dirty than usual now," Ron blushed. "Dumbledore talked with my mum and dad and we're actually moving somewhere later today."

"Did he say where?" Tom asked.

"No, just that it's the new headquarters for the Order of Phoenix or something," Ron said.

"Interesting," Tom said. "I've never heard of that."

"It's a group my parents were in with Dumbledore during the first war," Ron said. "They fought against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters… sorry Draco."

Draco shook his head but said nothing.

"Anyway," Ron continued, "why don't you come in? Mum's cooking breakfast."

"I would love some," Tom smiled. He followed Ron and Draco into the Burrow through a door that led straight into the kitchen it seemed. Mrs. Weasley was busy at the stove, waving her wand as pans cooked bacon and eggs simultaneously as a kettle bounced around with boiling water. Mrs. Weasley turned to see them as they walked in. "Tom! So good you can make it," she said. "I hope your parents found the place alright."

"They did, though unfortunately they're needed back at home immediately so they could only have dropped me off," Tom said, giving Mrs. Weasley yet another polite smile. He looked at the rather large table to see what he assumed were the Weasley twins, his new classmates. "Arthur's already at the Ministry for work, but he'll be here for dinner. I am so sorry that everything is hectic around here. I'm sure Ron and Draco already told you, but Dumbledore is moving us to another place this afternoon and we have to finish packing."

"Well not to worry, I have everything I need here," Tom said. Mrs. Weasley looked at him confused as his hand went into his pocket and pulled out a minuscule trunk and a very tiny locked box filled with books that he decided would be good for Harry. Both the size of a piece of candy. "My parents didn't want me to lug around my trunk and bookcase everywhere, so I've simply cast a Shrinking Charm as well as a Feather-light Charm on them once we reached here."

"That's smart," one of the twins commented.

"What else do you expect from Harry's egghead boyfriend?" the other said.

"I bet he reads an equation to put himself to sleep every night, don't you think George?" the first said.

"If that's the case Fred, then how did he and Harry get together?"

"I would gladly tell you in great detail, but I don't think your mother would approve of it," Tom said casually. The twins looked at Tom for a moment before laughing. Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head.

"What's your name?" Fred asked.

"Thomas. Thomas Riddle. Though people just call me Tom," Tom said walking to the twins and grasping their hands.

"Nice to meet'cha Tom! I'm Fred, this is my brother George," Fred smiled.

"Harry told me all about you two," Tom said. "But I think we already met… we're in the same classes after all. Though you might not remember me, I was a quiet student."

"Then we meet for real now," George smiled. "Come on! Sit between us." George moved over a seat to allow room for Tom to sit between the twins. Tom did so and Ron and Draco moved to sit.

"Draco, would you be a dear and set the plates on the table, please?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes ma'am," Draco said without complaint. Tom watched amused as Draco moved to a cabinet, opened it up, and pulled out a stack of plates. He placed a plate in front of each person before sitting down next to Ron. He looked at Tom, who simply raised an eyebrow. "Everyone needs to help around here," Draco said.

Tom chuckled. The twins looked at him and one of them said, "So Tom, how did you meet Harry?"

"It was during Harry's second year," Tom said. "We've met in the library, we talked and he somehow roped me into being his tutor. Naturally we got close, one thing led to another, and here we are."

"That's… a bit boring," George said, "isn't it Fred?"

"If it sounds boring to you, that is because I'm withholding information about Harry and mine activities," Tom said so only the twins could hear it. "If you want to hear about Harry mewling and acting like an adorable animal in heat… you should ask him directly when we see him."

The twins smirked. "I think we're going to get along swimmingly Thomas," Fred said. "Don't you think so George?"

"A real trio we'll make," George said. "Would you please tell us that at least Harry was wearing something tight."

"No, nothing tight," Tom said. "Just something that I want to see again soon." He gave a sly smirk. The twins seemed to eat that little fact up as they both gave perverted leers at Tom. "Is little Harry keeping something from us?" Fred asked.

"When did our little Harry grow into such a perverted boy?" George asked.

Tom laughed and smile. "Both are my fault. I have a way with words, and I'm afraid I seemed to have… mold Harry into who he is now. I've been teaching him the past two years, and still there is much that I wish for him to learn."

"So it's that kind of relationship huh," Fred said. "Wicked." They both gave approving smiles and thumbs-up.

There was the sound of pounding feet on a flight of wooden stairs. Tom looked to see the female Weasley come into the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas and looking like she just woke up. "Morning Mum, is breakfast ready yet?" Ginny yawned.

"Almost Ginny, have a seat," Mrs. Weasley said looking over her shoulder.

Ginny turned to the table and froze, her eyes landing immediately at Tom. Tom smiled and stood up, extending his hand politely. "Hello Ginny," he said, his smile looking too pointed. Ginny's skin paled, all the blood from her face seemed to retreat as she stared at Tom. Her body started to shake.

"Hey Ginny," George said as the twins stood up and hooked an arm each around Tom. "Meet our new friend, and Harry's boyfriend— "

"Tom Riddle!" Fred announced.

A loud, sharp shriek pierced the air. Mrs. Weasley jumped, as did everyone else in the room as all eyes fell on Ginny. Her hand was outstretched, pointing at Tom as she screamed. Mrs. Weasley rushed to Ginny and wrapped her arms around her, hushing and petting Ginny's hair as she tried to pull Ginny's arm down, which was somehow as stiff as a board. "He-he-he-he…" Ginny stuttered, still pointing at Tom.

Tom donned a guilty, worrisome frown. "I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley," he said.

"No, you did nothing wrong—Ginny what is the matter? This is Harry's boyfriend, Tom, why are you screaming?" Mrs. Weasley asked, holding her daughter close.

"You-you can't be here! Harry, he destroyed the diary—he showed me!" Ginny said frantically.

Tom frowned and looked at Mrs. Weasley. "I am sorry… this is sort of my fault. Harry told me about what happened to both of them. …The owner of the diary that Ginny wrote in during her first year… we share the same name and appearance apparently."

"It's him mum, I know it is," Ginny sobbed.

"I should have guessed that something like this should have happened, I am so sorry Mrs. Weasley. Perhaps I should go eat in another room? At least until Ginny calms down?" Tom said.

"Nonsense, you are our guest," Mrs. Weasley said. "Let me talk with Ginny alone for a moment—come on dearie, let's go have a sit, alright?" Mrs. Weasley said gently to Ginny whose eyes couldn't leave Tom. Tom just watched until Ginny and Mrs. Weasley disappeared from sight before sitting down, sighing. "The boy who possessed the diary and I share the same name and looks, though we are not even closely related. He did some… horrible things in the past. That, plus what he put Ginny through, it is only understandable that she freaked out."

"Well… we still like you Tom," Fred said.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," George said.

Tom nodded and leaned back into his chair. Poor Ginny, she was helpful in the beginning. Giving me half her life unknowingly must have had unknown consequences. I hope she has a long happy life to her late forties, or even her fifties. That way I'd known that she would have had a long life without my meddling. Still, she had done her part, and done it well. I don't need to be concern about her anymore if at all. No need to end her like I would have long ago in my old life.

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came back a few minutes later, Ginny looking reasonably calmer although she refused to look Tom's way, instead just staring down at her feet, and finally the table when she sat down. Mrs. Weasley quickly finished breakfast and served them all before sitting down herself. Tom made sure to not look at Ginny's way, there was no reason to provoke or agitate the girl, but made sure to make small talk with Mrs. Malfoy and the other Weasleys. The twins seemed to latch onto Tom easily, offering to bring him to their room after breakfast was done.

Their room was filled with boxes upon boxes of joke toys and pranks. "We've made them all," Fred said. "Gonna open a joke shop."

"Once we get enough money," George said.

"What are these?" Tom asked pulled out what looked to be a long flesh-colored string.

"Those are Extendable Ears," Fred said proudly. "Simply put one end into your ear, put the other under a door, and you can listen to any conversation going on no matter how private."

"Interesting," Tom smirked, his mind already thinking of the possibilities. He looked around the room, noting that along with the boxes of product, the twins' room was disgustingly messy with clothes laying around. "It seems to me that you two have not even start packing," Tom said.

"Well… we meant to but…" George said sheepishly.

"We got bored," Fred shrugged. "So we decided to work on something else."

"I see…then I will leave you to it," Tom said standing. "I want to look around your house a bit before we move again to wherever we're going, and also I have a letter to write."

"Is it a love letter?" Fred smirked.

"You can say that," Tom said leaving the room. He looked around and decided to climb the stairs until he reached the top floor. There he found himself in a room surrounded by orange and two beds pushed together. "I guess this is Ronald's room," he said to himself. Finding himself alone, he closed the door and looked around the room until he found parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Placing them on the desk, he aimed his wand at the door and locked it with the most powerful curse he knew.

It was time to work.

First off, however, he needed to write to Harry. It has been two days since his last letter and he hasn't received a reply.

My loving Prince,

It has been two weeks and still I miss your touch, your angelic voice is like a song ringing in my ears, and your scent is that of a nostalgic bliss. It has been two weeks since Summer tore us apart and though I write daily, I have yet received a reply from you, the boy who matters most in my heart. With each growing hour, my worry for you grows. I cannot help but think of increasingly horrible things that might have happened. Are my letters being intercepted? Is your odiously abhorrent Uncle taking your letters before ripping them up or throwing them in a fire? Have they harmed you? With each thought my worry for you Harry grows until I can do nothing but hate myself for this awful situation. I promised you a way out of your relatives but I have failed you.

Harry my love, I promise that I will come to get you. I will steal away my prince from your captures and finally ravish you like I should have done weeks ago. But before I am able to do that, I must first move again. The Weasleys are moving to someplace Dumbledore thinks safer. Once we are settled I will waste no time in getting you. I need to see you again, I need to touch you again Harry. You have done so much for me, so much that even you do not know. I need my Prince at my side again.

Yours Forever,

Tom

He read the letter twice before folding it gently. He placed it to the side before writing another letter.

The bathrooms, four in total, should each hold a marble sink and full bathtub as well as a walled mirror. The master bathroom's tub needs to be big enough to fit at least three people in and a full-length mirror that is approximately four feet in width. Make sure that there is a direct corridor from the master bedroom to the small cottage in case of emergencies. Remember not to kill any of the muggles once their work is done. Simply pay them and Obliviate those who need to forget about the basement. I will be sending constant requests via letters for now on.

Another one.

You will not move until you receive my permission. The Ministry and Dumbledore are currently at odds and we must use their quarrel to our advantage. Any disobedience will be met with the same punishment as Yaxley.

And lastly.

Yaxley. I do not approve of your actions nor of those of your co-conspirators. Do not take my youthful appearance for mercy or weakness. If either of you or conspirators plan to continue down your course, you will be used as an example for anyone else who wishes to doubt my judgement. I am not a man to be trifled with.

With the letters written, Tom took his wand and conjured out three shadows which all took the shape of owls. He tied his orders to them and watched as they flew into the shadows of the room, disappearing from sight. With Harry's letter he made sure that it was sealed properly and took it with him downstairs. Mrs. Weasley was washing the dishes from breakfast. "Mrs. Weasley…" he said, putting on a likeable appearance. "I've written a letter… for Harry. Can I borrow an owl to send it to him?"

"Yes of course, you can borrow Ron's. After that, can you be a dear and help Draco and Ron with the hens, it would be much appreciative," Mrs. Weasley said, point towards the door that Tom came in from.

"Of course ma'am. … Can I ask how Ginny is doing? I feel so sorry for causing that reaction," Tom said.

"Ginny is fine, she's helping me do last minute laundry at the moment, but I think it would be best if you give her some space and time to get used to you."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Tom said. He walked outside and saw Ron and Draco near a hen coop. Ron was feeding them as Draco just watched. He walked up to them and asked, "Ron, may I have your owl? I have a letter for Harry."

"Huh, yeah sure," Ron said. "One second."

Tom turned his attention to Draco. "A Malfoy doing chores? I never thought I'd see the day," he chuckled.

"I told you Tom… everybody needs to help out around here," Draco said. "They don't have any house-elves here. It's actually… helping me."

"I see, say no more," Tom nodded. Ron threw the last of the feed into the coop and locked the door. "That'll keep them good," he said. He began to walk away, "Come on, I'll show you to the feathery git." Tom looked at Ron strangely while Draco chuckled. It seemed that in the two weeks, the Malfoy has successfully integrated into the Weasley lifestyle. Tom just hoped that Draco wouldn't start dressing like them.

Ron led them up back into the Burrow and up the stairs to the top of the Burrow and into Ron's room. Tom looked around, curious as he had not seen an owl when he was writing his letters in here. Ron walked over to his bed and said, "Wake up you useless bird." He picked up what was the smallest owl that Tom has ever seen. It looked to be about the size of Tom's fist. When the owl saw Tom's letter it started hooting loudly in an excitable manner. "Pigwidgeon," Ron said. "The most useless owl in the world. Give me the letter, I'll tie it on him."

Once the letter was tied, Ron opened the window and his owl started flying, dropping slightly before finding some sort of balance. Tom agreed to help Ron with last-minute packing once the owl was out of sight, his mind too focused on Harry. The afternoon came surprisingly swiftly and all of the Weasleys plus Tom and Draco, and a late-arrival from Granger, were lined up as Dumbledore walked in with some Order members that Tom remembered. The first was Kingsley Shaklebolt, an Auror, followed by a bald-headed wizard who Tom remembered was a smuggler. "Molly! Are we all here, good, good," Dumbledore said. "I am sorry for the delay, and thank you so much for doing this Molly, we'll be traveling by Floo. I believe it will be safest to get to where we need to."

"And where is that, sir?" Draco asked.

"Huh? Oh yes… here," Dumbledore gave a small slip of paper to Mrs. Weasley. She read it and looked up at Dumbledore, who motioned for her to pass it on. She did so and everyone read the small note on the slip of paper: 12 Grimmauld Place. The House of Black, Tom thought to himself. Home of the traitor Regulus. How is it that now I remember him perfectly? He frowned in thought as he gave the slip of paper to Fred and George, both of whom somehow became his twin shadows.

"We all have read it? Perfect," Dumbledore smiled. "Then we should be on our way. …Mr. Riddle, after you."

"Of course sir," Tom said, giving Dumbledore a polite smile.

"The floo powder is on the mantle," Mrs. Weasley told Tom.

"Thank you," Tom said quietly as he went to the mantle of the fireplace and opened a tin can that was only halfway filled with floo powder. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place," Tom said clearly as he expertly threw the powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. He couldn't help but laugh to himself as he felt himself traveling away from the Burrow and to the House of Black.

This was all too easy.

.

Harry Potter had recently begun to favor dark colored clothing as well as dark green, especially dark green. He didn't know if it was because of Tom or just growing up, but he found that recently half of his wardrobe consisted of shirts with dark colors, many silvers and greys, as well as emerald and jade. Today he was wearing a short-sleeved jade shirt with trousers.

It was one of the hottest days in summer yet. The past two weeks Harry spent trying to watch the news, to see if anything unexplainable has happened. The Daily Prophet tells him nothing, and Uncle Vernon isn't allowing him to receive his normal letters. Harry frowned as he remembered the first day back with the Dursleys. Tom wrote him a letter and Dudley torn it from his hands. He laughed and told Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about the love letter, which caused Uncle Vernon to toss the letter into the fire while calling Harry and Tom "flaming poofs." Every day since that day, Uncle Vernon just chucked Harry's letters into the fire.

Harry wished that he could do something, he wished he still had Wormtail's wand. But Uncle Vernon had quick work of that. "Two! You have two bloody things?" Uncle Vernon yelled on the one time Harry tried to save the letters.

"Yeah! So give me my letters!" Harry yelled, gripping Wormtail's wand.

"Give me that!" A fat purple hand slapped Harry's cheek so hard he found himself being disorientated. His grip on the wand loosened slightly and Uncle Vernon grabbed the wand and threw it into the fire. "No!" Harry yelled. He rushed to the fire but Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the waist and pulled back violently. The wand began to crack and shoot black smoke in the fireplace, filling the living room. Uncle Vernon kept Harry in his meaty grasp as the small boy continued to struggle. After a while the black smoke disappeared, leaving only ashes burning in the fireplace.

"There, that's done. As for you… Dudley! Get my belt!"

"Yeah Dad!" Dudley yelled out. Harry heard his cousin running up the stairs before coming down a second later.

The welts from Uncle Vernon's belt crisscrossed across Harry's back. They made wearing shirts a painful experience for Harry as the Dursleys doubled his chores. There was never a day where Harry went to bed crying, wishing for Tom to come save him. When the welts started to fade, Uncle Vernon made sure to punish Harry for something, anything, to scar Harry's back with welts again.

It was two weeks since summer vacation started and Harry was walking in town, needing to get away from Uncle Vernon. "I'm the Dark Prince," he muttered angrily. "I've resurrected the Dark Lord! Why am I so weak against one damn muggle?"

He continued to walk, alone to his thoughts as he moved further and further away from Number 4 Private Drive. Trees started to surround Harry and he decided to sit down. His back ached and screamed in pain as he did so, causing the young teen to wince. Laying on his stomach, Harry used his arms like a pillow and fell asleep.

The sun already set as he woke up. Harry groaned as he got to his feet and decided it was time to head back to number 4 Private Drive. When he reached Magnolia Road, Harry heard a few voices and turned to see Dudley's gang.

Magnolia Road, like Private Drive, was full of large, square houses with perfectly manicured lawns, all owned by large square owners who drove very clean cars similar to Uncle Vernon's. Harry preferred Little Winging by night, when the curtained windows made patches of jewel-bright colors in the darkness. He walked quickly, so that halfway along Magnolia Road Dudley's gang came into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent. Harry stepped into the shadow of a large lilac tree and waited.

"Nice right hook, Big D," Piers said.

"Same time tomorrow?" Dudley said.

"Round at my place, my parents are out," Gordon said.

"See you then," Dudley said.

"Bye Dud!"

"See ya, Big D!"

Harry waited for the rest of the gang to move on before setting off again. When their voices had faded once more he headed around the corner into Magnolia Crescent and by walking very quickly he soon came within hailing distance of Dudley, who was strolling along at his ease, humming horrible.

"Hey Big D!"

Dudley turned. "Oh," he grunted. "It's you."

"Had fun beating a ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago—"

"He was asking for it," Dudley snarled.

"Oh yeah?"

"He cheeked me."

"Yeah? Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk on its hind legs? 'Cause that's not cheek, Dud, that's true. …"

A muscle was twitching in Dudley's jaw. It gave Harry enormous satisfaction to know how furious he was making Dudley; he felt as though he was siphoning off his own frustration into his cousin, the only outlet he had.

They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had first seen Sirius and which formed a shortcut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. It was empty and much darker than the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. Their footsteps were muffled between garage walls on one side and a high fence on the other.

"Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?" Dudley said after a few seconds. "You're lucky Dad didn't burn it like the other one."

"You're smarter than you look," Harry chuckled. He pulled out his wand and held it in front of him in his fingertips, twirling it lightly. Dudley looked sideways at it.

"You're not allowed," he said at once. "I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to."

"How do you know they didn't change the rules?" Harry asked, his eyes glinting in the darkness, a sinister smile gracing his face.

"Th-they haven't," Dudley said, though he didn't sound completely convinced. Harry laughed softly.

"You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?" Dudley snarled.

"Whereas you need four mates to help beat up a ten-year-old," Harry said.

"You just wait till I tell Dad you had that thing out! He'll give you more lashes than you can even count!" Dudley said.

Harry looked up at Dudley, his eyes still glinting but his smile disappeared. He supposed that Dudley guessed Harry would feel fear, but instead Harry felt angry.

"All that talk and you're gone by one small lick! You should hear yourself at night. 'Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! Save me from my uncle! Help Tom! Help! He's going to—' Don't you point that thing at me!"

Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley's heart. Harry could feel fourteen years' hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins—what wouldn't he give to strike now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he'd have to crawl home like an insect, maybe become an insect. If only he had Wormtail's wand—

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled. "D'you understand me?"

"Point that thing somewhere else!"

"I said, do you understand me?" Harry jabbed the wand directly onto Dudley's heart.

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING SOMEWHERE—"

Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch-black and lightless—the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant grumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway.

Dudley's terrified voice broke in Harry's ear. "W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I—"

"I said shut up! You're not blind idiot."

Harry stood stock-still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense that he was shivering all over. It was impossible… They couldn't be… Not in Little Whinging …He strained his ears. …He would hear them before he saw them. …

"I'll tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do—?"

"Will you shut up! I'm trying to lis—"

But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading. There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawling long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air. He heard Dudley running away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling. "YOU IDIOT COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

There was a horrible squealing yell, and Dudley's footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could mean one thing. There was more than one. Harry scrambled for his wand. A brief shot of light came from it. A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly toward him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came. Harry raised his wand, thinking of Tom and the loving pressure of his body over Harry's. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silver snake, as large as a Basilisk, erupted from the tip of Harry's wand; its fangs caught the dementor in the place where the heart should have been; it was thrown backward, weightless as darkness, and as the snake charged, the dementor swooped away, batlike and defeated.

"THIS WAY!" Harry hissed at the snake. Wheeling around, his sprinted down the alleyway, holding his wand aloft. "LUMOS! DUDLEY? DUDLEY!"

He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them: Dudley was curled on the ground, his arms clamped over his face; a second dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prizing them, slowly, almost lovingly, apart, lowering its hooded head toward Dudley's face as though about to kiss him. …

"KILL IT!" Harry snarled, and with a silent, rattling sound, the silver snake he had conjured came darting back past him. The dementor's eyeless face was barely an inch from Dudley's when the snake's jaw caught, its fangs piercing the dementor's body as it drove through it. The thing tore in two, both halves flung into the darkness where they disappeared. The snake slowed to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into silver mist.

Moons, stars, and the alleyway burst back into life. A warm breeze swept the alleyway. Trees rustled in neighboring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars filled the air again. Harry stood quite still, all his senses vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.

What were dementors doing in Little Whinging? They are dark creatures, they shouldn't be doing this… they should be on Harry's side. Did something happened? Was Tom unable to get control of the dementors? This will be troublesome if they cannot get the dementors under control.

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then heard loud, running footsteps behind him; instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heel to face the newcomer.

Mrs. Figg, their batty old neighbor, came panting into sight. Her grizzled gray hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from his wrist, and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but—

"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" she shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

A/N: It continues! What dangers lies before Harry and Tom on their quest for conquest? Well tune in next time where we'll find out!