[HP] Similar but different

At night, Hogwarts Castle melted into a deep darkness.

The dull bump of crutches against the ground traversing the hallway.The awakened portraits on the walls complained irritably, until the sound of footsteps turning up the stairs, clattering around, finally disappearing into a new, darker place.

"Fluorescent flashes."

A rough and hoarse male voice whispered.The bean-like fluorescence flashed on, vaguely reflecting the surrounding chaos, and a bright blue eye the size of a coin.The abnormal eye turned around in a full circle - all directions without blind spots - and finally settled on the wall in front of it.

The man took out a palm-sized velvet bag from his robe, and pulled it out bit by bit.An old corner is exposed first, followed by the entire picture frame of about a foot.He took two steps forward cautiously, and hung it on the dusty wall.Then he stepped back, staring at it expectantly, the other normal black eye full of frenzy.

If anyone could see this scene, he would think that Alastor Moody was indeed as crazy as the rumors said.Nobody makes that look when they stare at a tattered picture frame, let alone an empty black canvas.

But Moody at this time seems to think that waiting is an honor.

After a long period of silence, a new voice finally sounded: "You did it." His tone was steady, and it was incompatible with the young voice.

Moody immediately half bowed his head. "Yes, everything is arranged. As long as Potter meets the Triwizard Cup, the master will get him."

The new voice seemed to murmur for a moment. "Is everything safe?"

"Nothing goes wrong," Moody assured.

"That's good." The young voice said again, "After that, what are your plans?"

Moody didn't hesitate. "I figured I should stay in school until the program was ensured."

He thought it would be a higher compliment, but the voice said, "Just to prove your loyalty? I don't see any value in it."

"But..." Moody stopped talking, and his cheek muscles twitched slightly.He may be thinking, but any expression on a face with a crooked mouth, snub nose, and scars looks menacing.

"That place is very close to the Forbidden Forest. As long as you receive the call, you can immediately Apparate." The voice said again.

"...Master would like that?" Moody hesitated.Then he seemed to think of something, and hurriedly added: "Of course, I say that, not to doubt the master's ability!"

The young voice made a short gasp, as if amused. "I can understand what you really mean." He paused. "Obviously, he doesn't want anyone else to interfere. Potter belongs to the Dark Lord...you just have to deliver the boy to him."

Moody fell silent again, his bright blue eyes rolling in circles.

"As soon as the boy disappears, Dumbledore will find out that something is wrong." The voice said again, "Leaving only the risk of exposure; and returning to him, you can help him more..." He lowered his tone suddenly , softly, vaguely dangerous, and coaxing: "Don't you want to go back?"

Moody immediately shook his head violently. "I dream about it! I've been thinking about it for more than ten years!"

The young voice was extremely satisfied. "I trust in your work. You will be rewarded for your loyalty," he said, returning to his normal tone. "I will convey that to him."

Moody looked up with a look of disbelief and ecstasy, which made him look even more intimidating. "Thank you... Thank you..." He seemed to be stuttering with excitement.

"You can go now."

Moody took another two steps back and seemed to have finally thought of another thing. "You asked me to leave, but you intend to stay here?" He confirmed with uneasiness.

If the young voice had a face, it must be full of mockery at this moment: "What are you worried about? I am immortal."

Moody was truly convinced.He bowed deeply, walked backward among the swaying debris on both sides, retreated to the door, and then turned to leave.

The faint light then disappeared, and the huge room fell into darkness again.

"Harry Potter."

A faint sneer sounded, and then disappeared as if it had never happened.

**

One of the hottest evenings in the summer vacation, Harry lay—or rather, hid—in the gap between the window of his uncle and aunt's house and the flower bed, pricking up his ears, trying to catch the water that drowned in Uncle Vernon from time to time. The news broadcast in a loud voice.

However, no.No panic, no commotion, meaning no news of Voldemort.

Half of Harry's heart was happy, and half was irritated.Fortunately, of course, no one had been harmed so far, and the annoyance was because he thought of the rigid attitude of the Minister of Magic who refused to believe the facts.

In the Triwizard Tournament, a Death Eater posing as Alastor Moody signed up Harry, who did not meet the age requirements, and ensured that Harry became a warrior as the only candidate for the fourth school.Jealousy and suspicion over obvious unfairness is bad enough, but there are worse—

A trophy is a portkey.He and Cedric were taken to a cemetery, and Cedric was killed, and he, Harry, had to watch as Wormtail took his blood and used it to reshape a flesh for Voldemort. body.

Voldemort is back, and Fudge refuses to believe it.Harry had expected the Minister for Magic to be a gentle, good old man, but now he had to agree with Dumbledore.That is, the Minister's refusal to admit that his peaceful and quiet life had been disrupted by the return of the Dark Lord was hopelessly stubborn.

Dumbledore...

Oh, well, to be honest, Harry was more irritated than Fudge was by the first four weeks of summer - four weeks - when no one brought him even a word from the wizarding world.

Not a single person, not a single word.

What does it mean?

thought Harry angrily.It was he, Harry, who had brought the important news to everyone—not that he was happy to be a Hermes bearer of the bad news, or that he thought he could handle it alone, but— In any case—it wouldn't be possible to brush him aside so thoroughly like a burglar, right?Whether it was Ron, Hermione, Sirius, or Dumbledore, did they know that he risked being beaten by Uncle Vernon to eavesdrop on the news every day, just to get a few words that revealed what Voldemort did?

The perception of not being trusted deeply hurt Harry's heart.Unable to lie down any longer, he got up on tiptoe, intending to take a walk around the neighborhood before Dudley went home to relax.

But that seems like a luxury.

Although Harry has repeatedly forced himself to wait patiently and not act rashly according to the advice of Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, and he also tried his best not to think about the possible impact of Voldemort's return, but being able to do this does not mean that he easy --

Recently he has been dreaming.Leaving aside the nightmare of Cedric's death, the rest of the dreams also cluttered his nights.Long, dark corridors lead to closed doors, or dead ends.

What does this represent?Is he like a beast in a cage recently?

Harry thought, then laughed at himself - not a good sign, he should put this in his Divination assignment next term, Professor Trelawney would love it.

Then, until the lights came on, Harry sat limply on the playground swing in the middle of Magnolia Crescent.He was upset and frustrated, so when he spotted his cousin Dudley and a group of cronies passing by the perimeter of the playground, he followed without a second thought—

When Dudley was separated from the others, Harry emerged from the shade of the tree, making a few sarcastic remarks about Dudley's new nickname and their bullying behavior.

Dudley had never been a good-natured man.As the two of them crossed the short cut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Road, the surroundings became cold and dark without warning.The stars disappeared, and the street lamps went out in a flash.He decided it was Harry's fault, couldn't stand it any longer, and beat him out viciously.

Harry was looking around frantically, and before he could recover, he was punched twice in a row.The tremendous force caused him to fall to the ground, his glasses tilted to the side, and the wand he was holding in his hand flew out.

Yet the familiar, biting coldness made it almost impossible for him to reproach his cousin: "Shut up, Dudley! Get out of the way! Cover your mouth! Keep it tight! Where's my wand..." He straightened himself haphazardly. frantically fumbled around, "Oops, wand... Lumos!"

A dim light came on, and Harry finally saw his wand not far away.He scrambled and rushed over to grab it—a black ghost-like thing had already floated in front of him—and shouted loudly: "Calling Guardian! Calling Guardian!"

A thin, silvery mist spewed from the tip of the wand, but not enough to drive the dementors away.Harry tried to remember the happy feeling again, and before the dementor's scabbed gray hands grabbed his throat, he yelled again: "Call God for protection!"

This time it worked.A silver stag sprang from the tip of the staff, staggering the dementor in front of Harry with its forked horns, and the monster fled swiftly away.

Without taking a breath, Harry looked in Dudley's direction.His cousin was already slumped against the wall, and a second Dementor was trying to separate the fat hands. "Come on," he said to the stag, stumbling across, "get rid of that..."

The stag went away at the sound.But before it could get close to the other dementor, the black-robed monster straightened up and staggered back a few steps—its breathing became unbearably loud and its breath became unbearably loud—it Looking at Harry, it seems that Harry is something particularly terrifying, trembling, retreating again and again, almost terrified, and quickly flew away——

For a moment, Harry froze.He scared the dementors away?impossible?

The stars and the moon reappeared, and the street lamps also glowed.But a new chill gripped the alley, as if a poisonous snake was about to strike.

...who can scare the dementors away?

Suddenly, Harry felt an extremely bad premonition.He turned around slowly while maintaining a half-bent posture, almost stiff.

At the back of the alley, a wizard in black robe stood at some point.Standing against the light, the man was tall and thin, with a wide hood covering his face, and half of his long, pale fingers protruding from the cuffs.

Cold, gentle, full of malice...

Almost instantly, Harry recalled how they had brushed his face not so long ago, and the scars sting violently.

— Voldemort!

The author has something to say:

Have a lot of questions after reading it?That's normal【Hey

And, welcome to the new world~