Chapter 64: The Messenger on the Move
On the second floor of Privet Drive, in the smallest bedroom of the Dursleys' house, a few letters were scattered on a simple desk.
The most densely written letter was from Hermione Granger. The hot summer wind blew in through the window boredly, and she read the letter from head to toe, causing the parchment to tremble slightly.
"Harry,
You'll never guess who I ran into in Bath—Draco! He was visiting his grandfather in Bath, and I happened upon him while I was visiting my maternal grandfather. I never knew Bath had traces of a wizarding community. Perhaps I should buy a book called "Relics of Magical History" and research it; it's an interesting topic.
Plus, I finally saw Draco in something other than his school uniform and a suit and shirt, which answered my long-held suspicion: he can wear a T-shirt, too. And Draco learned Muggle skateboarding faster than I did. Can you imagine? This is infuriating. Is there anything he can't learn?
My summer plans were completely overturned because of Draco. He introduced me to a brilliant Potions master who knew a ton of tricks not found in textbooks. Who could miss such a rare opportunity? I immediately abandoned my planned trip to southern France and joined Draco in his Potions studies. Thanks to Draco, this summer was filled with a rich academic atmosphere.
Sorry, I've been a bit long-winded when it comes to studying. How have you been lately? Are those Muggles still mad about the phone call? Incidentally, Draco actually knows how to use a Muggle phone. By the way, did you like the sugar-free snack I sent you last time? Enclosed are two famous local Bath buns for you to try. Draco and I have already tested them for you, and they're delicious.
Okay, enough rambling, I'm going to stop writing. Draco and I went to a tea restaurant in Bath to drink spring water coffee. It's a nice place. After listening to their live music, I'll buy you some freshly baked Bath buns and Sally Lou buns...
Hermione
The recipient of this letter was locking his bedroom door tightly, pulling out the last Bath bun from under the floorboards and stuffing it into his mouth with a look of enjoyment - thanks to the preservation charm cast by Hermione, he was able to fully savor the fresh flavor of the freshly baked bun.
As he chewed, Harry Potter sighed.
He hoped very much that one day he could go on vacation to a small town in a leisurely manner, instead of staying at Uncle Vernon's house and enduring his ridicule for a month.
But it will be soon, his godfather will come to pick him up soon - and he will be completely liberated.
At this moment, he couldn't help but fantasize: maybe Sirius would take him out to play; it didn't matter if they didn't go out to play, as long as they didn't live with the Dursleys, anywhere would be fine.
If only Sirius could take him away from this damn place - this was Harry's first birthday wish for himself.
On the same day, shortly after Draco returned to Malfoy Manor with his grandfather, Harry, who was daydreaming, saw the first messenger of his birthday.
It was Dobby the house-elf. Although Harry had seen him several times in the middle of the night, this was the first time he had suddenly appeared in broad daylight like this.
He had a tattered little leather bag hanging around his waist, and his big round eyes stared at him without blinking. He proudly puffed out his chest, which was covered in colorful clothes, and said eagerly: "Great Harry Potter! The young master asked Dobby to deliver the letter to you because he knew Dobby was reliable!"
He bounded over to Harry, his steps surprisingly soft and silent. He pulled a large birthday cake from his small leather bag, as if by magic. Harry knew the bag must contain something truly special, probably some incredible magical item, and he couldn't help but marvel at it.
"The young master asked Dobby to bring a birthday cake and more fruit treacle tarts to the great Harry Potter! There was also a gift, he said Harry Potter would definitely like it!" He happily took out a dark green box tied with a bow and placed it in Harry's hand, shaking his big ears, and suddenly as if remembering something, handed a letter to Harry.
"The Respected Harry Potter needs to read it immediately!" He said to Harry uneasily, as if he had made some unreasonable request: "The young master is very serious and requires you to reply to him immediately."
Harry was surprised. Everything seemed a little unusual today.
Nothing's wrong, is it? He opened the envelope with trembling fingers, and a letter and a newspaper clipping fell out. He glanced at Peter Pettigrew in the newspaper clipping, and then quickly glanced at the content next to the photo. Harry's face suddenly changed drastically, and he grabbed the letter and read:
"Harry,
Looking at this newspaper clipping, you can probably guess that this holiday season is not going to be peaceful. I suggest you leave as soon as possible to find your godfather. A house with magical protection is far safer than a Muggle house.
I heard from some source that Peter Pettigrew kept talking in his sleep in Azkaban, and he kept repeating the same sentence over and over again, 'He's at Hogwarts... He's at Hogwarts'.
I haven't figured out who he's targeting yet, it could be me, but it could also be you, after all, you're his master's number one enemy.
Even if he appears incompetent and cowardly, someone who can escape from Azkaban should not be underestimated. I predict that the Ministry of Magic will send someone to protect you soon, so don't be afraid. Never leave your residence without permission.
P.S. I got this picture from your mother's old teacher, Mr. Slughorn. I thought you might like it.
PSS Mr. Slughorn asked me to give you his regards.
Draco
The signature at the end was very sloppy, indicating that the letter was written in a hurry.
Harry hurriedly looked at the dark green box. There was an exquisite greeting card tied to the box's strap. This was the first birthday card Harry had ever received.
He opened the box with shaking hands and finally saw the photo in a gold frame. The red-haired lady in the photo was wearing a white wedding dress and throwing a bouquet to the sky with great joy. The man who looked like Harry was standing next to him, putting his hands in his trouser pockets and showing off, and made a face at him.
He couldn't help but smile at the people in the photo, greedily looking at his parents' youthful spirits. How wonderful it would be if they were still alive.
After an unknown amount of time, Dobby coughed and asked tentatively, "Dear Harry Potter, do you still want to write back to the young master?"
Harry finally came to his senses. He cast an angry glance at the newspaper clippings lying beside him, quickly picked up a blank piece of parchment and wrote:
"Draco,
I love your birthday gift; the photos are amazing! Please thank the gentleman who has kept my parents' photos for so many years; it means a lot to me.
I saw the clipping. If Peter Pettigrew comes after me, then so be it. I'm willing to avenge my parents.
P.S. Sirius is expected to pick me up tonight.
Harry
Harry folded the letter in half, put it in an envelope, and handed it to Dobby, who bowed, gave him a wistful smile, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
At almost the same moment, another messenger from the Malfoy family - the majestic eagle owl - was making a long-distance flight.
The letter Joan was to deliver was to a hotel near a pyramid in Egypt. The Weasley family had recently won the Daily Prophet jackpot and were traveling in Egypt.
It took several days for the reply from the Weasleys to reach Draco - Joan was really exhausted by the trip.
Judging from the reply letter, the Weasley twins were not worried at all about the fugitive Peter Pettigrew.
"We all agreed that it was Harry he was after. Even so, Ron was terrified when he learned that Peter Pettigrew had escaped Azkaban. He probably thought his pet rat was going to run into Hogwarts and live with him or something...
There's no place safer than abroad. The Burrow is deserted now, and he doesn't even know where we live. Of course, Dad said the Ministry of Magic has started casting protective spells around the Burrow. It seems they take this matter very seriously.
P.S. We learned a lot of new spells in Egypt, which were pretty cool, and we can try them on you if you want."
Draco agreed with one point in the letter - Peter Pettigrew probably wasn't here to look for the Weasley twins, his "pet ghosts".
Otherwise he would have said "they" instead of "he."
Although on the surface, it seemed that Draco and the Weasley twins had captured him together; in fact, the rat probably knew very well who was the mastermind behind his capture.
After all, Peter Pettigrew and the Weasley twins had lived under the same roof for years without incident, and the only variable in this matter was Draco.
Ron's reaction was also quite interesting, though.
There was a real possibility that Peter Pettigrew would come to Ron, but what did Ron have that he needed?
When he kept Peter Pettigrew—his name was Scabbers at the time—as a pet, he took great care of him. It was impossible that Peter Pettigrew was seeking revenge for being "abused"; whether in his past life or this life, Ron did not have anything that the Death Eaters were interested in. They were more interested in Harry.
After much thought, he concluded that he had to start with Harry, the Dark Lord's enemy, or else take revenge on himself for capturing him. This view was also shared by Abraxas.
"He won't be able to find Malfoy Manor anyway," Lucius said with a haughty look. In early July, he and Narcissa had already returned from Peru, exhausted.
At this moment, they were sitting at the long table in the Malfoy family's dining room, drinking some after-meal tea.
Lucius had been observing his son for several days. He looked rosy-cheeked and even a few inches taller. Bath was a very nourishing place, no wonder the old man always loved to spend the summer there.
His son was safe and sound. Far from panicking, he remained remarkably calm. For example, when discussing Peter Pettigrew, Draco remained calm, displaying the demeanor of a true Malfoy.
So, Lucius played with his snake-head cane with satisfaction, took the two Scottish deerhounds for a walk in the manor, and checked to see if the hedges that were cast with reinforcement and protective spells were still strong.
"Xiaolong, who do you think he hates the most? You or Harry Potter?" Narcissa looked at her son with a hint of worry in her eyes.
"I don't know," said Draco. "He spent two years in Harry Potter's dorm room and never hurt him. I don't see any hatred in him."
Draco understood what his mother meant. If it wasn't out of deep hatred, what else could have made Peter Pettigrew do everything he could to escape Azkaban and rush to Hogwarts, the place where he had been captured?
The problem was, Draco had no idea what Peter Pettigrew was holding a grudge against. Normally, the rat's emotions weren't hatred so much as deep fear. Peter Pettigrew, in his mind, seemed to live in constant fear, rather than resentment.
Even if he harbored a deep hatred for someone as Narcissa said, there was still a question: how did he escape from Azkaban?
So many powerful dark wizards were imprisoned in Azkaban, and no one escaped.
Did they stay in Azkaban willingly? No, it was because they had nowhere to escape. It was a horrible, bitterly cold place, an isolated island in the sea, far from human habitation, a completely isolated existence.
However, Peter Pettigrew, a wizard of mediocre talent, did it.
This was a joke. Draco couldn't even imagine who else in the world could escape Azkaban without being noticed like Peter Pettigrew.
Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind.
There was a man, Sirius Black—he had escaped successfully in his previous life! Perhaps he knew a way out of Azkaban. This was a breakthrough.
He rolled his eyes and looked at his mother, Narcissa. She appeared to be no longer bothered by Peter Pettigrew's question, but was arranging flowers gracefully and elegantly. She tried to arrange the flowers in the vase neatly, like a beautiful, flawless painting.
Arranging flowers was a way for her to relieve her anxiety, just as Draco enjoyed making his own tea.
Narcissa was acutely aware of her son's gaze and looked up, "What's the matter, little dragon?"
"Mom, I want to go to the Black mansion."
Narcissa's expression was stunned for a moment.
This request was unexpected. She looked up at her son and said with unusual sternness, "This isn't a place you can just go to these days. Give me a reason."
"I want to visit Sirius Black. He might be able to provide some clues about Azkaban and help us catch Peter Pettigrew." Draco said without hesitation.
Narcissa's lips wrinkled in disapproval. Draco probably understood the underlying message: Peter Pettigrew was still at large, and leaving Malfoy Manor at such a sensitive moment was unwise.
"Harry Potter is there too. He has invited me several times. Besides, the Ministry of Magic has stationed a lot of people near his home. How dare Peter Pettigrew go there to try his luck?" Draco tried to persuade his mother.
Narcissa didn't look at him again. She carefully picked up a bunch of chamomiles and placed them in the vase, putting on a nonchalant expression. "A wizard who can't even stop Dementors, what makes you think those idiots at the Ministry of Magic can stop him? And if they can really be used, how did Peter Pettigrew escape?"
"That's exactly what I want to find out - how did he escape? I think Sirius Black must know some secrets after staying in Azkaban for so long." Draco reminded her, choosing his words carefully.
"That's true. I heard that he was still quite clear-headed when he was released from prison." Narcissa's expression softened slightly.
"But not everyone who goes to Azkaban can come back without going crazy." Draco continued to exaggerate.
"That's true." Narcissa seemed moved. In a place like Azkaban, the Dementors had been torturing him day after day for over a decade, but they hadn't destroyed him. He must have some unique secret.
"Haven't you been wanting to go back to the Black house for a while?" Draco said, enjoying the breeze, trying to deceive his mother with his innocent smile and naive look. "The last time you went was seven or eight years ago, right?"
"Yes, that was before your great-aunt Walburga passed away." Narcissa chuckled. Her well-maintained hands picked up a yellow rose with shaved thorns and sniffed it. "She was not an easy person to get along with. If she knew that her most hated son had inherited the Black House, she would probably jump out of her portrait and curse."
Draco shrugged.
"It seems burning the tapestry didn't work."
"Being expelled from the family is just a formality. It does not deprive him of his inheritance rights." Narcissa frowned.
Draco understood his mother's complex state of mind.
The Black family's inheritance rules do not treat female heirs equally. They always pass on the property to males first and then to females. Only when all male heirs die can the eldest daughter inherit.
His maternal grandfather, Cygnus Black, briefly served as heir to the Black family and held the Black family estate (including treasury and real estate) after Arcturus Black's death.
However, her grandfather passed away just one year later, and Narcissa only inherited a portion of her grandfather Cygnus's private property, and had nothing to do with the Black family's vast estate.
Although that was a large sum of gold Galleons, it was still far behind the wealth of the Black family.
In short, the Black family's wealth fell into the hands of Sirius Black, the only male in the Black family.
Her mother would occasionally complain about this. If the fortune had been passed down to her daughter, it would have gone to Bellatrix, but since she was in Azkaban, the actual control of the wealth would probably have fallen to Narcissa, just as she had always kept the key to the Lestrange vault for Bellatrix.
"I wonder if he's getting used to living in the old Black house... Will the portrait of Great-Aunt Walburga scold him every day..." Draco wisely changed the subject, determined not to let Narcissa dwell on the wealth that would not fall into her hands.
A slight ripple appeared between Narcissa's brows.
"Okay, I'll take you there." She finally made up her mind.
After her son left, Narcissa took up a pair of floristry shears and ruthlessly pruned the wild growth of flowers and leaves, no matter how lush they were.
She treats her floral work with great concentration, examining it with a critical eye, not allowing anything that might affect the overall beauty to even show up.
Her work must be perfect and full of order, just like her life.
As for those things that grow imperfectly, those rebels who deviate from the order, they will only be abandoned by the family.
For example, the pure-blood traitor Sirius - she hadn't seen the scene of him being scolded by his mother for many years.
She wouldn't mind taking another look.
"Oh, I am indeed very curious about my dear Sirius's recent situation." Narcissa happily left with the bottle of exquisite flowers in her arms. She mercilessly stepped on the innocent flowers and supplies she had abandoned on the ground, with a mysterious and dignified smile on her lips.