[HP] Similar but different

Dementors... Voldemort... in Little Whinging?

Until he got back to Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry couldn't believe what had just happened.His spine was screaming in as much pain as it could muster, having to bear the weight of Dudley's bulk after being tortured, but he couldn't care less—

What the hell is going on with dementors?Was it sent by Voldemort?

No no, if Voldemort wanted the Dementor to give Harry a fatal kiss, there was no need for Voldemort to go there himself.

... So what is Voldemort doing here?Because he knew Harry was a Parseltongue?The only one other than him?

Yes, it's possible Voldemort knew this, and Barty Crouch Jr. posing as Moody told him...

What about that diary?Why did Voldemort react so much to its destruction?

"How dare he"?Who is this "he" of Voldemort?Could it be Mr. Malfoy who stuffed the diary into the Ginny bucket?

Harry really didn't know what the diary was, but Voldemort seemed to think someone knew... Dumbledore?

And those two shakes of the head by Voldemort... the first time maybe Harry was dazed, the second definitely not... Voldemort was denying that the diary was an important item?But it doesn't make sense at all, they all know how angry he is...

Meanwhile, Harry had to notice that after Voldemort's anger at finding out that the diary had been destroyed, his scar had somehow stopped hurting.

What the hell did Voldemort do?What did you find again?

Harry closed the door, heard the nervous voice of his uncle and aunt from the corridor to the next door, and pulled his swollen lips from Dudley's swollen lips and smiled wryly.Had it not been for his sweaty T-shirt and the glaring bruise on his neck - the latter being the point - Uncle Vernon would have suspected that he had turned Dudley into a dead pig.

He'd just chased off two—no, one—dementors!Escape from Voldemort again - although he didn't know exactly how it happened, didn't anyone care?Don't say a compliment, at least a consolation?So far, there's been only Mrs. Squib who has to go home and wait for orders, and Mundungus Fletcher who's been stalking him and failing to do his duty of defense... Seriously?

A long-eared owl suddenly flew into the room through the window, dropped a large parchment envelope in its beak at Harry's feet, turned and flew away gracefully.

Harry picked it up quickly, tore open the envelope, and pulled out the paper—

It's from the Ministry of Magic.It said that Harry had been expelled from Hogwarts for violating the "Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards Act" for using spells without permission; He went to the Ministry of Magic at nine o'clock on the morning of the 8st for trial.

Harry's previous anticipation was all turned to stone and sunk in his stomach.he?Expelled from Hogwarts?Because he took self-defense measures against Dementors and Voldemort?

Harry sat down heavily on the bed.He suddenly didn't know what to do now.He got fired anyway, so now he can use a few extra spells on his own accord?

He suddenly thought of Voldemort.He now knew why the Dark Lord hadn't pulled out his wand the whole time.Voldemort is back, but he doesn't want to be discovered by anyone other than Death Eaters; and if he tries to use Avada Kedavra or some other Unforgivable Curse, the Ministry of Magic will probably realize that Harry simply can't do it .

But it still can't explain Voldemort's behavior of giving up attacking him in the end...

Thinking of that "honey" who was gnashing his teeth, Harry's goosebumps were about to rise.Before he could figure out the reason for Voldemort's change in attitude, a second letter arrived—

It was written by Arthur Weasley.He told Harry that Dumbledore had rushed to the Ministry of Magic to deal with the matter, and that Harry could not leave Number 4 Privet Drive, do not use his wand, and did not surrender his wand.

Harry finally saw a glimmer of hope, though small.He fell back, another burning pain as the back of his head and spine hit the bedding, but he ignored it again.Mr. Weasley worked for the Ministry of Magic and surely knew what was best for him...

He stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to figure out a reasonable logic in the mess of things tonight.However, it's not that easy.A third owl came in like a cannonball, bringing yet another letter from the Ministry of Magic, saying that Harry could keep his wand until his trial.

The uncomfortable knot in his heart was finally loosening a little, but Harry was still worried.When he didn't know whether to think about Voldemort's anomaly or the trial that sounded terrible first, the door slammed open from the outside.

"What the hell happened tonight? You have to give me an explanation!"

Harry tried to sit up - his spine started screaming again - and saw his aunt standing in the doorway. "None of my business," he said tersely, not in the mood for arguing.

"What I'm asking you is, what the hell happened tonight!" Aunt Petunia screamed. "Dudley's unconscious! We've called the doctor! If I find out it's you—"

"It's not me, it's the Dementor," Harry said quickly. "Oh, and Voldemort, of course."

Aunt Petunia's face had gone white at the sound of Dementors, and Voldemort's name made her look strange. "What? What did you say? That who—is back?"

"Yes, Voldemort is back," said Harry, and asked in confusion, "You know about dementors?"

Aunt Petunia's expression was indescribable. "Is he - isn't - dead?" She didn't answer Harry's question.

"No, he came back to life the month before." Harry replied, looking more closely at his aunt, "otherwise why do you think I've been wanting to watch the news this summer?"

"It's... no..." Aunt Petunia covered her mouth, looking somewhere between wanting to scream and throwing Harry the broom out of the house.

"What happened, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon's loud voice rang out. He came out of Dudley's room at some point. "Who are you talking about? I didn't hear clearly. Who died?"

Aunt Petunia obviously didn't want to answer that question, and she didn't have to.As the fourth owl flew in, Uncle Vernon jumped angrily: "Owl! Another owl! I won't allow owls to come into my house again—!"

This time the letter was from Sirius, who asked Harry to stay in the house.

Harry couldn't help but get a little annoyed that there wasn't any more to say.that's all?After he was almost kissed by a dementor and almost strangled by Voldemort, Sirius would write such a sentence dryly, wouldn't it be too mean?

"I can't stand a flock of owls flying around my house!" Uncle Vernon slammed across the room, slammed the window shut, and turned to Harry again, "Explain, boy! Or I'll throw you out." go out!"

Harry looked at him, then at Aunt Petunia, who was still covering her mouth, determined to make things clear as soon as possible. "Dudley and I were walking home when two dementors appeared. I drove one away with a spell, and the other was scared away by Voldemort who appeared later. And Dudley... he Was stunned."

Aunt Petunia let out a panicked exclamation from between her fingers, and her body swayed as if she couldn't stand still.

Uncle Vernon was furious. "Dementor...what? And Voldemort...what?" He suddenly realized that he was the only one among the three present who didn't understand these two words, and his anger turned into confusion: "What happened that I don't know? Those two things, whatever they are, why did they appear?"

Yes, you're on point, Harry thought. "The dementors are the wardens of the wizarding prison in Azkaban, and I don't know why they're here; and Voldemort," he took a deep breath, "is the murderer of my parents."

Uncle Vernon finally seemed to understand - or thought he did. "Aha! Yes, I did hear that last name! They're coming for you, aren't they? Maggie's right, we're just too softhearted, we should have sent you to an orphanage! Now, get out of me of……"

What interrupted his snarl was a bright red envelope that pushed its way in stubbornly through the window, snapped on the back of his fat head, and flew straight for Aunt Petunia.He cursed angrily, Aunt Petunia took two steps back in terror, and Harry watched as it quivered in the air, bursting into flames—

"Remember my last, Petunia."

The sound was so loud and terrifying that Aunt Petunia looked almost fainted.The previous look of wanting to drive Harry away was gone, replaced by firmness: "The boy must stay here."

"...what?" Uncle Vernon was taken aback, but Aunt Petunia firmly pulled him away, leaving Harry with a strangely quiet room.

Once again Harry didn't understand where things were going.Last?last what?

**

Voldemort returned to Malfoy Manor full of anger.He didn't know anyone, and rolled into the darkest room like a puff of black smoke.Because he wasn't sure, if he saw Lucius Malfoy now, would he be so angry that he would immediately give this duplicitous cunning guy an Avada Kedavra—

He doesn't need this right now.Potter had some sort of connection with him, and he shouldn't be trying to challenge his Occlumency at this point, because Potter would have told Dumbledore as soon as he knew.The situation is much worse than he expected, he needs countermeasures, and the countermeasures only he can give...

"You're back." When he entered the door, a voice sounded immediately.

Voldemort ripped off his hood and mask roughly, without answering immediately.

"Oh...you don't look very good," the voice guessed. "Bad news?"

"Bad news you'll never expect," hissed Voldemort, pacing up and down almost unstoppably. "The diary!" he roared. "He was killed by Potter with the basilisk fang!"

"...when?" The voice was unbelievable.

"Two years ago!" Voldemort was no less angry now than when he first knew about it.

The darkness froze into a frightening silence, only two heavy breathing could be heard.In unison, they kept quiet about the glaringly obvious omission—that a piece of Voldemort's soul had been killed, and that the person concerned didn't know about it from anyone until today, two years later.

"...It seems that I may be a real portrait now." The voice finally said, the tone became obviously colder, "It is indeed bad news that will never be expected."

Voldemort exhaled sharply, his thin nostrils flaring violently. "Another piece of bad news—" he said grimly, no longer hiding his great displeasure with himself, "Potter has always felt my feelings. I have reason to suspect that he can speak Parseltongue for the same reason. That scar on his forehead seemed to be the link between him and me. I gave him a part of me, through the Killing Curse."

"What are you implying?" The voice was sensitive to the meaning behind it, "What did you leave on him?"

Voldemort stopped abruptly, and there was another eerie silence.

"What if he could feel not just what you feel? But what you think?" The portrait made it clear.

Voldemort immediately retorted: "That's impossible!"

"It's easy to prove. As long as you..." The portrait didn't go on, he believed he could understand. "And, in fact, you have already guessed it, but you don't want to believe it."

Voldemort breathed heavily, his chest heaving.He couldn't argue with that.If he hadn't noticed that dangerous trend, why would he have thought of using Occlumency on the boy halfway?

"Two things." The portrait summed up calmly. "Check out the others, and find out what exactly you've left on Potter." Although the latter point was almost obvious.

Voldemort said nothing.He walked to the only chair in the room and sat down.His anger still hung like a thundercloud over the room, but he was definitely able to use his mind again.

After rethinking what happened tonight, the Dark Lord's brows slowly frowned. "There may be a third thing," he questioned each word, "why is Dumbledore happy that I used Potter's blood?"

The author has something to say:

The identity of the portrait is obvious, right?

grateful:

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