“I already don't like this chapter,” Harry muttered, frowning.
“I have to wonder what a house called that has to do with Harry,” Hermione said.
“Well, I have a feeling that, whatever it does have to do with him, we'll be finding out,” Luna pointed out.
The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it ‘the Riddle House’, even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there.
“It probably means that the house has not only been in the Riddle family for a long time – meaning that it's probably something to do with Riddle Sr. over Jr. – but that no one else has ever really taken to it long enough to erase the presence of who lived there before,” Hermione said.
It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict and unoccupied.
“I wonder if someone actually owns it, though,” Harry said. “I mean, if someone doesn't own it, then it's possible that they would be able to tear the house down and build something else there, right?”
“That is true,” Hermione said.
“So someone owns it, but doesn't bother doing anything with it,” Luna said.
“That's the most likely explanation as to why it's still there,” Hermione said.
The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was ‘creepy’. Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce.
“It was probably some murder, where the murderer got away,” Hermione said. “That's the only thing I can think of which would be considered creepy enough to do still be gossiped about years later.”
The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was any more.
“Which also means that innocent people are probably implicated,” Luna said.
“Most likely,” Hermione said.
Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer’s morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, and a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.
“That's probably going to scare the woman,” Hermione said.
“Probably,” Luna agreed.
The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village, and roused as many people as she could.
“When she should have gotten the police,” Hermione said, shaking her head in disgust. It appeared that she wasn't completely wrong about it scaring her, but it also seemed that the woman was a gossip. After all, there was no reason to rouse as many people as she could.
“Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!”
“So it happened the previous day,” Luna said.
“The maid must not be there after a certain time,” Hermione said. “Which doesn't make sense, since that means that they have to do their own dinner dishes, otherwise there would probably be more bodies.”
The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles,
“I'd say they're horrible, but since the chances are that these Riddles are related to wizard Riddle, then I think they're reaction is perfectly understandable,” Luna said. “After all, Riddle had to get his horribleness from some where, and it's probably that his father had just as much of a hand in it as him mother.”
for they had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle had been rich, snobbish and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been even more so.
“Basically, they thought they were better than others simply because they had money,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“Well, if you take the way Riddle was talking about himself, self-centeredness seems to at least run on one side of the family,” Cedric said.
“Well, if self-centeredness runs of one side of the family, then I have the feeling that insanity runs on the other,” Hermione said.
“It would make sense, since, if he can claim to be of the bloodline of Slytherin, then his mother's side of the family is probably very inbred, since I heard rumours that that line started becoming paranoid about marrying into the wrong kind and started marrying close family, like siblings together,” Cedric said.
“His self-centeredness even a word?” Harry asked. No one answered him.
All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer –
“Probably because they don't want to end up next,” Luna said.
“I have the feeling that they won't have to worry,” Hermione said.
plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night.
“No, they don't,” Hermione said.
The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that night; the whole village had turned out to discuss the murders.
“I wonder if they just went there in hopes that something gossip worthy would actually happen,” Harry said.
“That's most likely the reason why they did,” Hermione said “At least, some of them.”
They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles’ cook arrived dramatically in their midst, and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested.
“I wonder who this Frank Bryce is, and why he was arrested,” Luna mused.
“Frank!” cried several people. “Never!”
“Well, for now at least, I believe that they'll probably do what people did to Harry in the second book by the time the night's over,” Hermione said. “And I doubt it will take a lot to do it, either – it certainly didn't take much for people to think that way of Harry.”
“Which probably means that this Frank guy is most likely innocent,” Cedric said.
Frank Bryce was the Riddles’ gardener. He lived alone in a run-down cottage in the Riddle House grounds. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises,
“Which probably doesn't help any one of these people, because they probably don't realize why he'd be like that,” Hermione said. “They probably will condemn him because of that little fact.
and had been working for the Riddles ever since.
“I wonder what he did before that,” Cedric said.
There was a rush to buy the cook drinks,
“So, this lady probably will sell a bad picture of Frank, and is getting 'paid' for doing so,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I know I probably shouldn't do this, but I really hope that something bad happens to this woman for telling lies as she most likely will be.”
and hear more details.
“Always thought he was odd,” she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. “Unfriendly, like. I’m sure if I’ve offered him a cuppa once, I’ve offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn’t.”
“Well, after a war, he probably just wanted a quiet life,” Hermione said.
“Ah, now,” said a woman at the bar, “he had a hard war, Frank, he likes the quiet life. That’s no reason to –“
“I have the feeling that the cook won't like that,” Luna said. “After all, that would help Frank Bryce, not condemn him. And, based on the little bit told already, she's probably wanting to condemn him.”
“Makes me wonder if she's being vindictive about that, or not,” Cedric said. “I mean, if she wants to condemn him then there probably is more of a reason to do so than just the fact that he's a suspect.”
“Maybe she's a scorned woman,” Hermione said. “He might have turned out down, or she get seriously offended from him turning down her offer of something to drink.”
“That could explain why,” Cedric said.
“Who else had a key to the back door, then?” barked the cook.
“Just because he has a key doesn't mean that it was him,” Luna said. “I mean, for all she knows, he might have been somewhere else at the time.”
“I don't anyone would admit to that, since chances are none of them saw him in town, and, therefore won't believe he was anywhere at home, even if he was out of town,” Cedric said.
“They probably would have noticed if he was out of town, meaning that they probably knew that he was at least in town,” Hermione said.
“There’s been a spare key hanging in the gardener’s cottage far back as I can remember!”
“It might not be the key to the house, though,” Harry pointed out.
“He is right. They could have changed the locks and not given him a new key,” Hermione said.
“Nobody forced the door last night! No broken windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping ...”
“That right there should tell people that this cook has a grudge against him, because they were told, before, that the Riddles weren't asleep when it happened,” Hermione said.
“Why do you say that?” Cedric said.
“Two reasons. First off, if they were asleep, then they would not have been found in the drawing room as they were; secondly, they would not have been in their dinner clothes, either,” Hermione said.
“Meaning, the reason why there was no signs of a break-in was probably because they let them in,” Harry said.
“And the killer most likely left of his own free will,” Hermione said.
The villagers exchanged dark looks.
“Well, it definitely looks as the this 'cook' was successful in making Frank seem guilty,” Luna said, shaking her head.
“I always thought he had a nasty look about him, right enough,” grunted a man at the bar.
“War turned him funny, if you ask me,” said the landlord.
“You know what? I think all these people need to be thrown into the circumstances that Frank was, and then say all this stuff,” Luna said.
“Told you I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of Frank, didn’t I, Dot?” said an excited woman in the corner.
“Horrible temper,” said Dot, nodding fervently, “I remember, when he was a kid ...”
“I wonder if this Dot is telling a true story, or something false,” Hermione said.
“I wonder who Dot is,” Harry said. “I mean, is it the cook's actual name, or is she someone else.”
By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles.
“Which, of course, will cause him problems when he's finally released, because no one will believe that he actually is innocent,” Cedric said.
But over in the neighbouring town of Great Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating, again and again, that he was innocent, and that the only person he had seen near the house on the day of the Riddles’ deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale.
“So, Riddle killed his Muggle family, or, at least, had a part in it,” Hermione said, remembering how he was described as a teen.
“Which means that, chances are, the bodies will not have any signs of what killed them, since magic was most likely involved, and I have been told of spells that don't leave a trace when they kill someone,” Cedric said.
Nobody else in the village had seen any such boy, and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him.
“Because everyone was aware of anyone going up to that house with nefarious intentions, and therefore were always watching it,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank, the report on the Riddles’ bodies came back and changed everything.
The police had never read an odder report. A team of doctors had examined the bodies, and had concluded that none of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangled, suffocated or (as far as they could tell) harmed at all.
“So, magic was definitely the cause of death,” Luna said.
In fact, the report continued, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment, the Riddles all appeared to be in perfect health –
“Save for the fact that they're dead,” Harry added.
apart from the fact that they were all dead. The doctors did note (as though determined to find something wrong with the bodies)
“They need some sort of cause of death, because the Riddles were apparently healthy,” Hermione said.
that each of the Riddles had a look of terror upon his or her face – but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?
“I wouldn't discount it, though,” Harry said.
As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all, the police were forced to let Frank go. The Riddles were buried in the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects of curiosity for a while. To everyone’s surprise, and amidst a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his cottage in the grounds of the Riddle House.
“Well, where else was he going to live,” Luna said. “That is his home, after all. Even if he planned on going somewhere else, it would probably take him a while to do so.”
“ ’S’far as I’m concerned, he killed them, and I don’t care what the police say,” said Dot in the Hanged Man.
“I wouldn't be surprised if she said that she always knew he didn't do it if someone else died the exact same way,” Hermione said. “After all, I don't think that the police actually said he was innocent – it more like they just don't have proof that he did it.”
“And if he had any decency, he’d leave here, knowing as how we knows he did it.”
“And he knows he didn't, so you can shut your mouth and stop looking like a fool,” Harry said.
“Somehow, I don't think that he will leave, nor do I think he will ever be found innocent of these crimes this Dot is accusing him of,” Hermione said.
But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next – for neither family stayed long. Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that each new owner said there was a nasty feeling about the place,
“I doubt the fact that Frank is thought to have killed the previous owners is the problem,” Cedric said.
“Yeah, I've no doubt that it's something Riddle himself did to it,” Luna said.
which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair.
“That makes sense,” Hermione said.
The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that he kept it for ‘tax reasons’, though nobody was very clear what these might be.
“I have the feeling that Riddle might be the person who owns it,” Harry said. “Particularly if he did something to it.”
“It wouldn't surprise me,” Hermione said. “As for being wealthy, well, I wouldn't be surprised if there was something else to that.”
The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, however.
“Of course, we could be wrong,” Hermione said. She just couldn't see Riddle paying a Muggle money to do gardening.
Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now, very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering around the flowerbeds in fine weather, even though the weeds were starting to creep up on him.
“I have the feeling that, considering how the town thought of him, that weeds are not the only problems that he has,” Luna said.
Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with, either.
“Knew it,” Luna said.
“I don't think that anyone was doubting you,” Hermione said.
Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle House. They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare.
“So, basically, they were doing everything to make his life hell,” Harry said, shaking his head.
They knew that old Frank was devoted to the house and grounds, and it amused them to see him limping across the garden, brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them.
“I think, truthfully, that something bad should happen to these boys just for doing that,” Hermione said. She couldn't help but see some similarities between the way these boys were acting towards Frank because of the fact that the people were being very narrow-minded, and the way some of the people at her school treated her because she did better than them on tests and like to read a lot.
Frank, on his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer.
“That's most likely the reason,” Hermione said.
“Of course, it could also be that they're just being cruel to be cruel,” Luna added.
So when Frank awoke one night in August, and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempts to punish him.
“If we're actually going to hear about this, then I have the feeling that it's not the boys who torment him,” Harry said.
“I have to agree,” Luna said.
It was Frank’s bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen, with the idea of re-filling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire.
“I actually doubt it's that,” Cedric said.
Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning about the Riddles’ deaths.
“Considering the fact that they probably never apologized for treating him the way they did, but just said the only reason he was being released was because they couldn't prove he did murder, I think it's understandable,” Hermione said.
He put down the kettle at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door.
“So the lock is still the same,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night.
The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, and nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock and opened the door noiselessly.
“You'd think, if it's an old house and key, that it would make some noise,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
He had let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his way towards it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead. He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust which lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick.
“So whoever it is won't be forewarned that he's there,” Harry said.
“And, if he has to get away, he'll be able to without alerting them,” Cedric added.
On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: at the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond.
The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate.
“You know, I just had a thought,” Hermione said. “If we're hearing about this night in detail, then, well, it has to do with wizards in some way, doesn't it? I mean, I can't see the importance of it unless it has to do with wizards.”
“I can't, either,” Harry said. “Of course, I can't see the importance of anything in this chapter, other than to point out how Riddle killed his father and grandparents.”
“Do you think that it's important because it might have Riddle in it?” Luna suggested.
“I hope not,” Harry said, sighing. “I really, really hope not, because, knowing my luck, it'll mean that, chances are, I'll have to deal with him at some point this year.”
“I can't think of any other reason for having it talk about the Riddle house, though,” Luna said.
This surprised him. He stopped moving and listened intently, for a man’s voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful.
“There is a little more in the bottle, my Lord, if you are still hungry.”
“That was most likely Pettigrew, meaning that it most likely his Riddle,” Cedric said.
“Lovely,” Harry said, sounding glum. “And I was hoping that the break from him would last more than a year.”
“Later,” said a second voice. This, too, belonged to a man – but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Frank’s neck stand up. “Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail.”
“So, the servant has definitely found the master,” Luna said.
Frank turned his right ear towards the door, the better to hear. There came the chink of a bottle being put down upon some hard surface, and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he disappeared from sight again.
“Where is Nagini?” said the cold voice.
“I have the feeling that Nagini isn't going to be someone or thing that we'll want to see,” Hermione said.
“And, if it's not in the room with them, then I have the feeling that it'll do something to Frank,” Cedric said. “After all, I doubt, if he hears what they say, he'll get a chance to tell someone else.”
“We'll, hopefully, with what we'll learn here, we'll be able to keep this from happening,” Luna said.
“I – I don’t know, my Lord,” said the first voice nervously. “She set out to explore the house, I think ...”
“Which most likely means that, when she goes back to Riddle, she'll definitely see Frank,” Luna said.
“It's probably some sort of snake, then,” Harry said. “Because of the fact that I just can't see Riddle not having some sort of pet he can semi-control.”
“And, being about to talk to snakes, he's be able to use it as a guard dog as well,” Hermione added.
“You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail,” said the second voice.
“If we're right about it being a snake, then how will he milk it?” Harry asked.
“The venom,” Hermione said. “He must need the venom for something.”
“I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly.”
“It seems that the venom is needed for whatever is helping him keep his strength,” Cedric said.
Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard.
“He's probably very confused as to what he's hearing,” Luna said.
There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again.
“My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?”
“They'll probably stay there for quite a while,” Cedric said. “Considering that the place is abandoned, it's the perfect place to stay. And, from the sounds of it, Riddle can't move a whole lot without being easily tired.”
“That doesn't mean, of course, that Pettigrew can't be sent somewhere,” Luna said. “Plus, I have the feeling that they might have something else to do. I mean, why else would they be back in England, if they are in England right now.”
“A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over.”
Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a build-up of earwax, he had heard the word ‘Quidditch’, which was not a word at all.
Cedric looked as though he was going to protest, but then remembered that Frank was a Muggle, and, therefore, wouldn't know that it actually was a real word.
“The – the Quidditch World Cup, my Lord?” said Wormtail. (Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.) “Forgive me, but – I do not understand – why should we wait until the World Cup is over?”
“While I think that they shouldn't wait, Riddle is right to have them do so,” Cedric said. “Because of how big the World Cup is, and how popular the sport is, almost everyone from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty to watch for signs of unusual activity, which means that it would be foolish to do anything before or around that time.”
“Honestly, though, and no offense to your father, but considering how much injustice has been done – from what we found out about Sirius being innocent in the last book to the fact that many of the people who followed Riddle were able to get off for now good reason – I have the feeling that Riddle could do something and it wouldn't matter,” Hermione said. “I mean, it's not like he'd get caught, no matter how much they try to do it. And, if it was Pettigrew, he'd most likely turn into the rat that he is and just scurry on out of there.”
“I can understand why you say that,” Cedric said. After all, the examples of the ministry given so far didn't paint it in a very nice light.
“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.”
“So, basically, just what Cedric just said,” Harry said.
Frank stopped trying to clear his ear out. He had distinctly heard the words ‘Ministry of Magic’, ‘wizards’ and ‘Muggles’. Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could think of only two sorts of people who would speak in code – spies and criminals.
“Well, while he's right about the last bit, they're not actually speaking in code,” Luna said.
Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still.
“Your Lordship is still determined, then?” Wormtail said quietly.
“Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.” There was a note of menace in the cold voice now.
“I have the feeling that he's not liking the fact that Pettigrew is asking that, probably repeatedly,” Hermione said.
A slight pause followed – and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.
“Which means that he knows what he's going to say won't get his 'lord' in a good mood,” Hermione said.
“It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord.”
Another pause, more protracted, and then –
“You know, that almost sounds as if he cares about you,” Luna said.
“I doubt it's that,” Harry said. “It's probably the fact that he can't easily get to me that's driving him.”
“Without Harry Potter?” breathed the second voice softly. “I see ...”
“I wonder if Riddle is having the same thoughts as we are,” Hermione said.
“My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!” said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. “The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all!”
“Oh, how nice,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. He wondered exactly how Pettigrew had managed to become friends with his father, particularly since it was obvious that Pettigrew didn't care for anyone but himself, from the way he seemed to be acting.”
“It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard – any wizard – the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while – you know that I can disguise myself most effectively – I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person –“
“I could use another wizard,” said the second voice softly, “that is true ...”
“But it's probable that he wants to use me,” Harry said.
“And I have the feeling that Pettigrew is going to regret saying that it could be done without Harry,” Hermione said.
“I wonder why he wants to use Harry, though,” Luna said.
“It's probably because of what happened in the fourth book,” Hermione said. “Remember, this is most likely the part of Voldemort that was possessing Quirrell, meaning he most likely remembers what happened.”
“He doesn't want to chance it happening again,” Harry said. “And, whatever it is that he needs me for, it'll either help make sure that it doesn't happen, or it'll be because he plans on killing me, or both.”
“My Lord, it makes sense,” said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now, “laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected –“
“I'm sure that Riddle, sadly, probably took that into account when making his 'plans',” Cedric said.
“And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute?”
“I have the feeling that he's probably going to accuse Pettigrew of wanting to desert him,” Hermione said.
“I don't think that Pettigrew would do that,” Harry said. “Mostly because there's no way he could live a normal life, and he can't go back to living solely as a rat with a wizarding family, because we'd probably be checking periodically to make sure he didn't somehow get back into the castle.”
“I wonder ... perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?”
Knew it Hermione thought.
“My Lord! I – I have no wish to leave you, none at all –“
“Do not lie to me!” hissed the second voice. “I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me ...”
“Well, considering that you're probably ugly, I think it makes sense that he would,” Cedric said.
“No! My devotion to your Lordship –“
“His devotion is nothing more than cowardice and the fact that he can't live his nicer lifestyle any more,” Luna said.
“Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?”
“But you seem so much stronger, my Lord –“
“He's lying,” Hermione said. “Especially when you consider the fact that Riddle just said that the the journey had weakened him.”
“Liar,” breathed the second voice. “I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care.”
“He's not all that grateful that Pettigrew came back to him,” Luna said, shaking her head.
“Silence!”
Wormtail, who had been spluttering incoherently, fell silent at once. For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing but the fire crackling. Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss.
“Which would probably be horrible to hear,” Hermione said.
“I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail – courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort’s wrath –“
“Lovely,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
“My Lord, I must speak!” said Wormtail,
“I don't think that Riddle will like that all that much,” Harry said.
panic in his voice now. “All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head – my Lord, Bertha Jorkins’s”
“Who?” Hermione said, noticing the look on Cedric's face.
“She's a Ministry employee,” Cedric said. “I know, several years ago, she worked in the same department as my father did, but she was transferred not long afterwards.”
“disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I curse –“
“If?” whispered the second voice. “If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has disappeared. You will do it quietly, and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition ... come, Wormtail, one more obstacle removed and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us –“
“I have the feeling that Pettigrew won't like that,” Harry said.
“I am a faithful servant,” said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.
“Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfil neither requirement.”
“Pettigrew definitely won't like that,” Hermione said.
“I found you,” said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky edge to his voice now. “I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins.”
“Which means that she's probably dead then,” Harry said, feeling sorry for the woman.
“That is true,” said the second man, sounding amused. “A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail – though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?”
“It was more like he was caught by her and couldn't let her go, since it would have put a damper in on the fact that he's supposed to be dead, which would also have someone questioning how she could run into him,” Cedric said. “And, the only reason why he didn't kill her himself was because he most likely didn't have a wand on himself, and couldn't find hers.”
“I – I thought she might be useful, my Lord –“
“Liar,” said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more pronounced than ever. “However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform ...”
“Somehow, I have the feeling that he literally means their right hands,” Luna said, shivering lightly.
“R-really, my Lord? What –?” Wormtail sounded terrified again.
“I think that Pettigrew is getting that feeling as well,” Harry said.
“Ah, Wormtail, you don’t want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end ... but I promise you, you will have the honour of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins.”
“And that makes it sound as if he's going to kill him,” Hermione said. She had little doubt that the reason why Bertha Jorkins' disappearance was being mentioned was because they'd most likely caused it, in a permanent matter.
“You ... you ...” Wormtail’s voice sounded suddenly hoarse, as though his mouth had gone very dry.
“The words that Riddle said probably terrified him,” Harry said.
“You ... are going ... to kill me, too?”
Hermione nodded her head slightly. It looked as though she was right about what happened to Bertha.
“Wormtail, Wormtail,” said the cold voice silkily, “why would I kill you?”
“I have the feeling that the only reason he won't is because he's going to need Pettigrew,” Luna said.
“I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless.”
“I'm almost afraid to know what it was that he did to her to make her that way,” Hermione said
“In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns ...”
“Well, that definitely answers why Pettigrew brought her with him,” Harry said.
“And, because Riddle is a psychopath, the idea of modifying her memory most likely never crossed his mind,” Hermione said.
Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh – an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech.
“I have the feeling that Pettigrew just suggested doing what you just said,” Luna said.
“We could have modified her memory? But Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard,”
“Well, since I doubt that anyone would bother trying to break a memory charm, especially since there's no reason to think that there would be one on her, that makes it quite useless to say that as a reason not to,” Hermione said crossly.
“as I proved when I questioned her.”
“So, she had one on her already,” Cedric said, sounding confused. Who had put one on her?
“It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I extracted from her, Wormtail.”
“It's an insult to her memory for you to do so, since I doubt she'd like whatever it was that he learned to be used to harm anyone,” Harry said.
Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat. The man with the cold voice had killed a woman. He was talking about it without any kind of remorse – with amusement.
“Which is how you can tell how sick and worthless he is,” Hermione said.
“I hope that this little fact will have Frank leaving, before anything happens to him,” Luna said.
“I have the feeling that, if he does leave, he'll most likely go to the police, because he's not just hearing that they killed a woman, but that they're planning more murders,” Harry said. “And they're planning something to do with me as well.”
He was dangerous – a madman. And he was planning more murders – this boy, Harry Potter, whoever he was – was in danger –
Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the time to go to the police. He would creep out of the house and head straight for the telephone box in the village ...
“But he's going to get distracted,” Luna said, frowning lightly. It was obvious, to her, that he wasn't going to be alive much longer.
but the cold voice was speaking again, and Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, listening with all his might.
“One more curse ... my faithful servant at Hogwarts ... Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet ... I think I hear Nagini ...”
And the second man’s voice changed. He started making noises such as Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath.
“So Nagini is definitely some type of snake,” Hermione said.
Frank thought he must be having some sort of fit or seizure.
And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look behind him, and found himself paralysed with fright.
“And Nagini is definitely coming,” Luna said, somehow able to figure out what was going to happen to Frank. He was either going to be eaten by the snake, or the snake would let Riddle know he was there and Riddle would kill him instead.
Something was slithering towards him along the dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realised with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long. Horrified, transfixed, Frank stared at it as its undulating body cut a wide, curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer – what was he to do? The only means of escape was into the room where two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where he was the snake would surely kill him –
But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following the spitting, hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond the door, and in seconds, the tip of its diamond-patterned tail had vanished through the gap.
There was sweat on Frank’s forehead now, and the hand on the walking stick was trembling. Inside the room, the cold voice was continuing to hiss, and Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible idea ... This man could talk to snakes.
“As strange as the thought is, it's completely true,” Harry said.
Frank didn’t understand what was going on. He wanted more than anything to be back in his bed with his hot-water bottle. The problem was that his legs didn’t seem to want to move.
“Which will be the reason for his death,” Cedric said, shaking his head. He didn't have to read it to know what would happen – he knew that would be it.
As he stood there shaking, and trying to master himself, the cold voice switched abruptly to English again.
“Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,” it said.
“In-indeed, my Lord?” said Wormtail.
“Indeed, yes,” said the voice. “According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say.”
“He most likely won't have a chance to hide himself,” Hermione said.
Frank didn’t have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open.
A short, balding man with greying hair, a pointed nose and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm on his face.
“Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?”
The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the fire, but Frank couldn’t see the speaker. The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the rotting hearth-rug, like some horrible travesty of a pet dog.
“To Riddle, it probably is like a pet dog,” Luna said.
Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still deeply shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his walking stick, and limped over the threshold.
The fire was the only source of light in the room; it was casting long, spidery shadows upon the walls. Frank stared at the back of the armchair; the man inside it seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Frank couldn’t even see the back of his head.
“I'm almost afraid to know if he has a body or not,” Hermione said.
“You heard everything, Muggle?” said the cold voice.
“What’s that you’re calling me?” said Frank defiantly, for now that he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver; it had always been so in the war.
“He sounds as though he'd have been a Gryffindor if he was a wizard,” Cedric said.
“I am calling you a Muggle,” said the voice coolly. “It means that you are not a wizard.”
“I don’t know what you mean by wizard,” said Frank, his voice growing steadier. “All I know is I’ve heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have.”
“That's probably not the smartest thing to say,” Cedric said.
“You’ve done murder and you’re planning more! And I’ll tell you this, too,” he added, on a sudden inspiration, “my wife knows I’m up here, and if I don’t come back –“
“I have the feeling that, if he had a wife, he's just signed her death warrant,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“You have no wife,” said the cold voice, very quietly. “Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows ... he always knows ...”
There were some furrowed brows at that, as they wondered how that could be true. And, now that they thought about it, it made them remember how Riddle had known about the stone back in the first book. They hadn't thought about it before, but, now that it was shown to them again, they did wonder about it.
“Is that right?” said Frank roughly. “Lord, is it? Well, I don’t think much of your manners, my Lord. Turn round and face me like a man, why don’t you?”
“I have the feeling that Riddle won't like being called a 'man' since it implies that he's common,” Hermione said.
“But I am not a man, Muggle,” said the cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames. “I am much, much more than a man.”
“I think he means that he's much, much less than a man,” Harry said.
“However ... why not? I will face you ... Wormtail, come turn my chair around.”
The servant gave a whimper.
“I don't think that Pettigrew wants to be that close to him,” Hermione said.
“You heard me, Wormtail.”
Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have done anything than approach his master and the hearthrug where the snake lay, the small man walked forwards and began to turn the chair. The snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug.
“I think that's it's way of saying that it's claimed that area, and doesn't like it being messed with,” Harry said.
And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it. His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke, as it raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Harry's eyes widened. That flash of green light, it sounded just like the green light he'd seen when trying to remember what happened the night his parents died. Could it have been what killed them? And if so, what kind of curse was it?
Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with a start.
“So I dreamt all that?” Harry said.
“It seems so,” Hermione said. “After all, it's too much of a coincidence that you'd be said to be waking up with a start after that happened.”
“True,” Luna said.
“That's the end of the chapter,” Cedric said, handing the book over to Luna.