Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the wizarding world	By : zoy_grey Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10766 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own nor make profit off of JK Rowling's world of Harry Potter, the characters or the timeline. I do own some of the characters that are of my imagination as well as the plot that I came up with.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: BAFan - thanks for letting me know about the error; I'm already editing previous chapters to get rid of it; I guess it must have been some silly autocorrect on my computer that switched it to "literary" :P
delia cerrano - although Snape is not the black cloaked figure, he will be a bit friendlier with Harry later on ;)

CHAPTER 7
Harry was standing in the centre of a forest clearing. He looked around, but wherever he glanced his eyes met old, dark forest.
The teen didn’t recognize the place, but curiosity and bravery took the best in him and made him walk towards an opening and a path. It led him through the dark and grim forest. With every meter, however, the trees were becoming more organised, the surroundings brighter and the path was more like an elegant lane.
Once more, Harry looked around him and stopped fascinated, when his gaze landed on something far in the distance that reminded the boy very much of a big, grand house. He couldn’t decipher the exact shape of the building, but he hoped that when he gets closer to it the shape was going to become clearer.
To his surprise and annoyance, he still couldn’t see the building better, even though he walked closer. Thick mist covered the fenced grounds.
Harry heard a sudden knocking sound, which repeated itself over and over again. He rubbed his eyes, hoping it will make it easier to see through the mist.
When he opened his eyes, he realised it was all a dream – yet another strange dream in the last three or so months.
The teen lay on his bed at 4 Privet Drive. The sun was slowly rising outside. He turned to face the window and saw an owl waiting there with a newspaper.
“Alright, alright, I’m up,” he said getting up and walking to the window. Harry took his today’s Daily Prophet and paid the owl.
“Let’s see what’s going on in our world,” said Harry and smiled looking at Hedwig.
Some time ago he decided to pre order the Daily Prophet to be up to date with everything happening in the wizarding world. He still disliked the newspaper – that one hasn’t changed -, but at least that way he knew what was going on with his godfather.
He hasn’t got over the fact that Wormtail ran away and Sirius had to hide again. It angered him that the man was innocent, but the public didn’t want to believe him; at least Dumbledore and the Weasleys now knew Black didn’t do what he was being accused of.
The thing that irritated Harry the most was the fact he still had to go back and live with the Dursleys; he hated it; especially now, when he knew there was an alternative – he could live with his godfather.
Harry ran through the article. He hoped to find even a small piece of information on how Sirius was doing, but he regretted opening the paper a moment later.
The reporters from the Daily Prophet seemed to have made it a point of honour to find as many crimes as they possibly could to put the blame on his godfather. Harry was starting to get the feeling that even if some witch or wizard caught flu, the Prophet would write that Sirius Black was responsible for it.
“See this, Hedwig?” he showed the paper to the owl and kept talking louder with every second, “Again, this ‘Shadow’ lunatic attacked some kid and they already blame Sirius. That’s not fair! Why would he even attack kids? It doesn’t make any sense. They don’t use their brains in that newspaper!”
“Stop that noise this instant, boy!” screeched aunt Petunia when she burst into his bedroom. She stared at him for good two minutes and continued her rant, “And you’re reading that rubbish again.”
Well, he could certainly agree with her on that one – Daily Prophet was a biased paper and rubbish to him. However, there was no way he was going to say that out loud; not in front of the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon would no doubt take that opportunity to withdraw him from Hogwarts.
“Mum, what was all that noise about?” huge form of Dudley showed up in the door frame. “Did ‘four eyes’ have a nightmare again? Was he screaming for his father again?”
Harry couldn’t stand it anymore; indeed, he woke up a few times during summer having a bad dream about Dementors taking Sirius away to Azkaban, but that was no business of his fat cousin.
“Shut up, Dudley!” immediately he had his wand ready and pointed at the other teen.
For a moment, none of them moved; finally aunt Petunia broke the silence, rushed Dudley downstairs and looked sternly at Harry.
“Don’t you dare threaten my Dudley. Besides, you can’t use magic outside of school,” she hissed maliciously. “Do that again and you may say goodbye to that trip with your freaky little friends.”
When she left, Harry dropped down on his bed and sighed heavily trying to calm down.
For some reason he was constantly feeling angry; even little things irritated him to no limit. As fast as he got angry he also calmed down; that constant mood swing wasn’t helping survive summer without his friends. He missed Hermione, Ron, the twins and the rest of their family. That also reminded him, he really had to keep his nerves under control for the next week if he wanted to go to the Burrow and join the Weasley family to the Quiddicth World Cup.

In the library of the old Riddle mansion, Wormtail was quickly collecting the old newspapers from the ground. Every now and then he looked around terrified, searching for any sign of his master’s new pet, Nagini. He hated the bloody reptile; and he hated moments when his master talked with it in parseltongue even more; Wormtail couldn’t understand a word from what was said then and it scared the crap out of him.
He reached for the last few newspapers lying open on a table in front of an expensive, red armchair.
“Don’t,” sounded a quiet, short command.
With fear in his eyes, Wormtail looked up from the floor to meet his master’s blood red gaze. The Dark Lord hasn’t regained his full power, yet; not even half of it or his body, for that matter, but the younger wizard couldn’t help but feel vulnerable in his presence.
“But those are from last week my Lord,” he gestured towards the Daily Prophet on the table.
“I will decide what I want to read, Wormtail,” the small creature form in the armchair nearly hissed. “Call Barty.”
“Yes, my Lord,” answered the man with a bit strained voice; he didn’t like the fact that ever since they found Crouch Jr., Voldemort gave him minor tasks – more like he was a house elf in his master’s house rather than a wizard and one of his followers.
As soon as the plump man left the room, Voldemort laughed to himself; he couldn’t help it; Pettigrew’s motives were so pathetic it made Voldemort want to practice casting spells on him.
For the last few weeks, he was training his magic on Wormtail. The other wizard didn’t have the faintest idea he was a practice dummy for his master, but that made it even more exciting. Voldemort wasn’t able to use all of his magical power yet, but the progress was big already. With a bit of effort he could cast some wandless spells; but what satisfied him most was that he could use legilimency. During the last month, he’s read almost every thought of his pathetic servant and he was certain Wormtail would be loyal to him since he was already terrified of him, even in this rudimentary body.
Waiting for the other wizard to come back, he glanced at the open newspaper before him.
He made it his daily routine to check the latest news from the wizarding world. After nearly thirteen years of absence he wasn’t up to date with everything that was happening in their world. Though he was aware of a few facts – his Death Eaters were either locked in Azkaban or under constant watch of the public eye; Dumbledore gained even more respect from the magical community; and Harry Potter became the Golden Boy and Saviour of the Light side for defeating him.
“Such lies,” sighed Voldemort.
“My Lord, you wished to see me,” said another wizard, who just walked into the room; Wormtail quickly following him inside.
Voldemort looked at the short wizard and calculated. It was true that the man searched for him and helped him a lot during the last few weeks, but that didn’t make his doubts fade away. Voldemort was always suspicious of other people – that way he’d never be caught off guard -, but he couldn’t quite figure Pettigrew out.
The man was a member of the Order of the Phoenix during the war, yet he betrayed his friends. It wouldn’t bother him so much if Wormtail was a dark wizard from the very beginning and came to him out of loyalty; but that wasn’t the case here; Wormtail came to him out of fear and told him were the Potters lived out of his own free will; even though he never ordered any of his Death Eaters to go after the pathetic wizard because he was one of Dumbledore’s followers.
“Leave us,” he hissed, finally making his decision; it wouldn’t be wise to let Wormtail in on the details of all of his plans.
“B-but my Lord,” pleaded the man.
“Go feed Nagini…unless you want to end up as her dinner.”
“Y-yes, Master, as you wish,” he stammered and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Barty kneeled by the armchair and watched the small figure with admiration in his eyes.
“Do you need anything my Lord? I’ve already made preparations for the Quidditch World Cup. And I’m working on my mission at Hogwarts.”
“Very well,” he answered satisfied; at least one of his followers proved useful. “I’ve got one more task for you, though. I can’t let Wormtail do it.”
“Yes, my Lord,” a wicked smile formed on Barty’s face. “What do you need me to do?”
“Did you hear about this ‘Shadow’ person, as the Daily Prophet calls them?” he asked and pointed at the newspaper.
Crouch took the paper into his hands and read quickly through the article. “Yes, master, but only rumours. As far as I know, the public think it is Black who’s attacking those kids.”
“Rubbish,” hissed Voldemort. “Black was at Hogwarts almost entire year, trying to hunt down Wormtail.”
“True, my Lord. Do you want me to catch this Shadow?”
“Yes. The wizarding world thinks this person is one of us, a Death Eater. They say he dresses the same and wears a mask.”
“But he’s not one of us,” commented Barty.
“No. A Death Eater would search for me first and attack later, not the other way round,” he pierced the younger wizard with his red eyes and continued “I want you to look for this person.”
“Shall I kill the imposter?”
“No. Capture him and bring here, I want to have a little chat with this Death Eater wannabe.”
After everything was said, Crouch stood up, bowed and left the room.
Voldemort definitely liked Barty’s attitude; he never asked unnecessary questions; when he gave him an order he happily followed it, no questions asked.

Theodore Nott was sitting by the window in the first floor study of his family’s mansion, reading a book and enjoying the last few weeks of summer holidays.
Some time ago he has found a fascinating book on charms in his father’s personal library and since then he kept studying it. The charms weren’t only light ones, to be honest, but as long as he practiced them safely inside the mansion’s powerful wards, the Ministry shouldn’t be alarmed. His father was definitely not worried about his fascination with the book and spells; if anything, Mr Nott was proud of his son and his academic achievements.
At some point, Theodore heard a sound of someone flooing into the house.
He checked the clock hanging on the opposite wall and noticed it was already after ten p.m.
“Who could it be at this time of night?” wondered the boy, but continued reading.
Ten minutes later there was another sound of the fireplace activating and he couldn’t help his curiosity.
He walked out of the study, down the dimly lit corridor, straight to the grand staircase. The boy stopped abruptly and hid behind the corner, when he spotted three older wizards talking down in the hall. He couldn’t see their faces well, but he was sure they were his father’s friends. All of them seemed agitated about something.
“He’s coming back,” whispered a tall, blond wizard with pointed features. “Lucius confirmed the same happened to his mark.”
“If this is true,” started Mr Nott. “If this is really true, he’s going to be furious.”
Theodore tried to follow the conversation, but his father led his guests to the main parlour. The boy decided to go downstairs and eavesdrop.
In school, most of his house mates thought him to be completely not interested in other people’s business, but that wasn’t exactly true. He preferred to keep to himself and his books; but when something suspicious was going on in his surroundings, he couldn’t sit quietly and do nothing; he liked to know the situation.
He stopped by the double door leading to the parlour and listened through the half-open doors.
“We nearly got locked in Azkaban last time,” said the blond wizard, whom he now recognized as Abraxas Malfoy. “If he’s truly coming back, it’s better we got away from imprisonment.”
“He’s not going to see it that way,” commented old Nott. “He may see the ones in Azkaban as the only loyal followers and us as the ones who defected.”
“True, but we can talk ourselves out of this,” continued old Malfoy. “We wouldn’t be of any use if all of us were imprisoned.”
“What do you think, Hector?” Nott asked the grey haired wizard, who until now sat silently by the fireplace; Theodore realised it was Mr Rosier. “You’re quiet, but you must understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Oh, I do understand the seriousness of the situation and I agree that we’ll be probably seen as the ones who betrayed him and his cause,” answered calmly the wizard. “However, Abraxas has a point too. We were loyal to the cause and we still are. My son was loyal to the very end and what did it bring him? Death.”
Rosier looked at his companions and saw they had no answer to what he said.
“We were supposed to protect the old wizarding bloodlines, yet we’re dying out. The only hope of your family, my friend, is young Theodore; my son, my heir was killed; Lestrange’s heirs both got a life sentence in Azkaban; even the Blacks completely died out,” continued the wizard. “He couldn’t expect us to leave the remaining family members behind and get ourselves imprisoned.”
Mr Nott walked to his old friend and patted him on the shoulder.
“That’s all true, but I doubt it’s going to be a satisfactory answer to him,” he commented.

Entering an abandoned hut in the forest Sirius turned back into his human form.
The last two, or so, months were rather stressful. Much to his disdain he had to flee from Britain and hide in different countries. He never stayed long in one place, not wanting to get caught by the aurors. At least this hut, he found last week was comfortable enough and had a bed inside.
The thing that wouldn’t let him sleep at night was Harry and the distance that separated them.
Now, that he had cleared the situation with the boy, he finally wanted to be a godfather and a guardian to him; Harry was the last living person closest to a family member and he didn’t want to lose him. And the fact remained that the boy was in danger.
Sirius didn’t quite understand how it happened that Harry became Voldemort’s archenemy; nonetheless, he was. Black kept asking himself what he missed in the whole story. After all, he was present when James met with Voldemort; since then Harry was supposed to be untouchable for the Dark Lord.
Another matter was his godson himself. Sirius hasn’t seen him very often after he was born and the Potters went into hiding, but he remembered the boy’s magic quite well. When a person is bound to someone – like a parent is bound to its child or a godparent to its godchild – they can sense their magic, especially when it’s powerful. And there was no doubt Harry’s magic was strong; he saw the boy’s first accidental magic when Harry was only five months old.
His godson’s potential was big and different than James or Lily’s – no mistake about that; it was different even from Sirius’ own magic. He remembered how surprised and even scared his friends were when they’ve realised it. Lily was the most shocked of the three of them and she probably never got to terms with it, but she wanted only what was good for her son.
However, when he came to Hogwarts last year, he couldn’t feel Harry’s magic; not the type of magic he remembered from when the boy was an infant; it wasn’t even as powerful as it was back then. Harry’s abilities should have improved, not decreased.
Then there was also that moment in the Shrieking Shack when Harry found out about Peter’s betrayal of his parents and Sirius could have sworn he sensed something change in the boy’s magic. For the slightest moment he felt the familiar aura surrounding Harry; but it quickly vanished as if suppressed by something.
“Bloody rat!” yelled the wizard. “He should have been in Azkaban right now. And I ought to be with Harry.”
His frustration was growing with every day, because someone was meddling with his godson’s magic; and whoever it was, would pay for it.

“Oi, mate, wake up!” he heard someone shouting and pulling his sleeve. “Get up, Harry.”
Lazily, Harry opened his eyes and rubbed them; that, however, didn’t make his sight any better. He reached to the night table for his glasses and finally saw a clear vision of Ron standing by the side of his bed.
He looked around and realised he was at the Burrow, with the Weasleys. At first, he was a bit confused, because of the dream he had.
“Mum already made breakfast and we’re going to London after that,” explained the redhead and watched the odd expression on his friend’s face – it was a mix of surprise and confusion. “What’s going on? You had another weird dream?”
“Kind of,” he said entering the bathroom.
Harry vaguely remembered having strange dreams before and telling them to Hermione and Ron, but they never could figure out what they really meant. Those dreams stopped for some time so he wasn’t worried about it anymore, but since all the fuss about Sirius and Wormtail last year, the odd visions in his sleep returned. It was very difficult to understand anything from them really; sometimes he dreamt of a big old manor in the woods and sometimes it was just a blinding green light and a woman screaming.
He took a quick shower, got dressed and walked down to the kitchen.
“Morning, Harry” chirped Hermione meeting them on the stairs. She noticed their faces and added “Someone here didn’t sleep well.”
“He had another one of those crazy dreams of his,” explained Ron.
“Maybe you should just tell professor Dumbledore about it?” suggested Hermione. “First thing we get to Hogwarts. He’ll know what those dreams mean and what to do about them.”
“I guess,” was all the answer Harry could master.
The entire morning Harry kept thinking about it. He knew his friends wanted what was best for him, but he didn’t plan on taking up their advice. He seriously didn’t see the reason why should he be worried about the odd visions. The one with the screaming woman was probably his memory from the night his parents died and he couldn’t see how it could be dangerous to him.
The other dream was more frustrating than worrisome. Every night he dreamt about the house in the forest he tried with all his might to get closer to it, but was stopped by the thick mist; his curiosity was killing him; he wanted to get into the damn house at least once.
Another matter was, what that dream could mean. Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t any memory of his. Still it wasn’t anything serious enough to bother the Headmaster with it.
As promised, after breakfast, Mr and Mrs Weasley took all of them shopping on Diagon Alley.
The street was even more crowded than normally. When they got to the Quality Quidditch Supplies, they quickly understood why there were so many people there today.
The upcoming Quidditch World Cup was a blessing for the shop. There were crowds of witches and wizards, young and old rushing inside to buy the last World Cup merchandise. The entire shop was decorated with Bulgarian and Irish flags, scarfs, hats etc.
“Wow,” Ron’s eyes nearly dropped out of his sockets when he spotted a huge poster of Victor Krum “Wicked. Mum, please can we take a look?”
Mrs Weasley didn’t share her sons’ love for Quidditch and she certainly didn’t have money for any new posters at the Burrow, yet she didn’t want to spoil all the fun for her children. She looked at the pleading eyes of the twins, Ron and even Arthur, and sighed.
“Oh, alright. But don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting at the bookshop,” she smiled at them brightly.
“I’ll look after them, Molly dear,” Mr Weasley embraced his wife and kissed on the cheek.
“That you will, dear.”
“Mum, Hermione and me will go with you,” said Ginny following her mother, not fancying stay in the crowded shop, but looking longingly at Harry how stayed with her brothers.
“Come on boys, let’s see what they have here,” Mr Weasley was as excited as his sons and rushed them inside.
For a moment there, Harry felt like three years ago when Hagrid first brought him to Diagon Alley. People around him seemed focused only on their shopping; there were small, golden Snitches flying around the place and from every wall his eyes were greeted by moving posters of different Quidditch players.
First he lost sight of the twins, who spotted something in the far end of the shop. Shortly after that, Mr Weasley found a Muggle-born kid shopping with his parents and quickly the wizard lost interest in Quidditch; asking the Muggle parents a bunch of odd questions.
“Look Harry,” Ron pointed at something on the second floor and ran upstairs faster than ever. “Come on, mate. It’s the best Seeker in the world.”
As much as he wanted to follow his friend and see what got Ron so excited, Harry found it difficult to keep up with him. The customers didn’t pay much attention to one another; it was madness. He could hardly walk through the crowd to get to the stairs, but just then he hit something and stumbled to the ground.
“Brilliant,” he commented sarcastically noticing his glasses were once again broken.
He stood up and looked around to find either Ron or anyone from his family, but with all those people, he failed.
Losing all interest in the shop and whatever it offered, he pushed through the crowd once more to get outside. Finally standing in the street and breathing fresh air again he waited there for his friends.
He leaned on the wall, took off his glasses and assessed the state they were in. Deciding it was better to let someone else repair them, he put them on just in time to see three familiar people heading his way.
Harry recognised them from school; they were his classmates, though from different houses – Slytherins Andrew and Jamie, and Morag from Ravenclaw. He didn’t have many friends in other houses than his own, especially Slytherin, but he didn’t mind these three; they’ve never done anything bad to him.
What surprised Harry the most was that the group came out of Knockturn Alley; some packages in their hands, and carelessly discussing something funny. Why would they even go to such a place, not to mention alone? He knew most parents forbid their children to go to Knockturn Alley.
The three of them spotted Harry and walked to him. It looked as if all of them found the situation awkward – they weren’t on good enough terms to stand there and chat, though walking by and not saying a word felt strange as well. In the end, they chose the first option.
“Hello Harry,” said politely Morag, “You know my friends here?”
“Yes, we had Potions together,” explained Harry and decided he needed to put his curiosity at ease, so he asked “Shopping…at Knockturn Alley?”
The teens looked at each other with innocent expressions and Andrew answered for them “Us?...Impossible.”
For some reason, the way the boy said that and their behaviour suddenly caused Harry to laugh.
“Glad we could cheer you up,” said Jamie. “You didn’t look too frilled just a moment ago.”
“You wouldn’t be either if you had to go in there,” Harry showed them the Quality Quidditch Supplies and the other three automatically winced at the thought of mingling with the crowd. “See what I mean?”
Surprisingly, Harry talked with his fellow students for quite some time; he didn’t even notice how the time was flying. And maybe it was due to fresh air, but for the first time in a very long, he felt comfortable and at ease.
Their conversation was broken by a sudden ruckus at one of the shops not far from them.
“What was that?” asked Morag; but as soon as they looked in the direction the noise came from, a door to a shop opened and an old house elf was thrown onto the street.
The teens walked closer to see what was going on and noticed a very angry shopkeeper of the most expensive Antique Shop on Diagon Alley standing in the door and waving his hands at the elf.
“I’ve told you already, get out of here! Your mistress never paid the whole price and now she’s dead,” yelled the wizard. “Therefore, that painting frame belongs to me and I can sell it to whomever I see fit!”
The house elf stood up from the ground and mumbled curses under its nose. “Filthy half-blood. A friend of mudbloods and blood traitors.”
“Are you alright?” Harry asked, concerned about the creature.
Studying the group of teens, the elf noticed Potter and started another one of his rants. “Harry Potter, the Boy who stopped the…”
All of a sudden the creature stopped midsentence and froze; its eyes as big as they could get and its expression was a mix of disbelief and utter happiness. It stared at Harry’s companions and simply tried to move its lips to say something.
“Oh, my poor Mistress,” was all the house elf finally muttered and vanished with a quiet ‘pop’.
“Now that was…odd,” commented Harry and turned to face the shopkeeper.
“Bless my soul, it’s Mr Potter!” exclaimed the wizard and quickly added rushing them into his shop. “How may I help you Mr Potter?”
They couldn’t help but stare at everything around them. The shop was full of very old and luxurious furniture, paintings, jewellery etc. Harry even spotted a four-poster bed to the back of the shop, which looked almost as old as the beds in Hogwarts.
Realising the wizard was still staring at him and waiting for his answer he asked, “What was it that house elf wanted to buy?”
“He didn’t want to buy anything,” said the man with a sneer. “He wanted to take the golden painting frame his mistress left me to repair years ago.”
“That witch, didn’t she pay you for repairing it?” asked Andrew.
“Oh she did, but not enough.”
“Can’t you ask any of her relatives to pay you?” kept asking the boy.
“Not really. Her son is a criminal on the run,” said sarcastically the man.
“You mean, this painting frame,” started Harry, who immediately thought about his godfather, “It belonged to Sirius Black?”
“Sirius Black’s mother to be precise,” answered the shopkeeper a bit bored by the conversation and annoyed, because he was starting to get the feeling they weren’t going to buy anything, and he was wasting his time.

Barty apparated in an alley, in St. Ives. Even though it was still summer, the weather wasn’t nice at all. It was almost autumn weather – rainy and windy.
The wizard hid his face under a hood and took a step backwards, hiding from a group of Muggles walking by.
“Awful place,” he muttered to himself.
It wasn’t really that he had something against St. Ives exactly. He was simply tired of this entire searching. The lack of results was discouraging. For the last two weeks he had been very busy; he served his Lord the best he could, but even he had his limits, and that lazy Wormtail was unreliable. Barty could deal with all that, however his latest task proved to be a bit problematic. He couldn’t think of a way to track down Shadow; that person was really like a shadow; he appeared in random places and random time, and never left any tracks. Barty was really getting frustrated and begun to understand the aurors’ problems in catching Shadow.
Crouch visited every single place where Shadow had attacked his victims, but couldn’t connect them; until one day he had enlightenment. In all those places he felt dark magic, but not very strong; it was as if masked by something. Barty was a dark wizard himself, so he could sense that dark energy, even if it was faint; the aurors, however, were mostly light wizards and they couldn’t detect dark magic unless it was very strong and uncontrolled; no wonder then, the Ministry thought Shadow didn’t leave any magical traces.
Not having any other lead, Barty decided to check it out. He travelled to different parts of Britain and very soon he found out that in some regions of the country he could sense Shadow’s magic, when in others there was practically no traces of it. Barty chose to visit cities, towns and villages in the regions where traces of Shadow’s magic were the strongest.
That led him to Cornwall; Shadow’s presence there felt rather strong and he had never attacked there before.
After two hours of waiting though, he got tired and wanted to leave, when he suddenly saw a kid, not older than ten years, running down the street. A group of three strangely dressed adults followed the child.
“Wizards,” noticed Barty and observed the family.
Suddenly, he felt the magical presence he was searching for. He nervously looked around; finally he was close to fulfilling his task; the Dark Lord would praise him.
A moment later, he spotted a black clad person standing on the roof of a building not far from where he was hiding.
“Found you,” Barty muttered under his breath. There was no mistake, it was Shadow; Crouch knew the description of him very well by now and wanted nothing more than to catch him and take to Lord Voldemort. However, it wouldn’t be wise to do that in front of some wizarding family.
He remained in his place and observed his target. After a moment Barty saw Shadow move swiftly and jump off of the roof; he landed directly in front of the child. What happened then surprised Barty a lot. Shadow touched the ground with his hand and something he was holding formed a barrier around him and the kid; later, he pinned the child to the ground, touched its chest with a necklace and then happened the most unexpected thing.
“Impossible,” slipped out of Barty’s lips. He could feel a new dark energy in the air; he tried to detect the source of it, but in the end he realised it was coming from that small kid.
“Stop him! Somebody, catch him!” shouted a plump witch rushing towards her child, lying unconscious on the pavement.
Barty came out of his astonishment and noticed Shadow running down the street, jumping up the building and running further away with unbelievable speed.
At first, Crouch tried running after him, but was unsuccessful in catching him. Not only that was the problem – Shadow noticed someone was following him and tried to lose him.
“Oh no, you won’t run away,” said Barty with a wicked smile and disapparated.
Few streets away from the crime scene, Shadow slowed down and stopped to listen if he was still being followed. He couldn’t hear anything at first, but suddenly he felt someone’s presence behind him. He turned around to see a wand pointed at him.
“Petrificus totalus,” said Barty and leaned over the unmoving body “How lucky for you, my Lord wants to see you alive and in one piece.”
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Harry Potter and the wizarding world