Theodora and Harry Potter

Chapter 5

Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter I do however own the twists to the plot and the oc so please don't copy my original work it does have copy rights on it but every other credit goes to J.K Rowling. There is also a great deal of this chapter from the book.

A cluster of hills stood tall and spread wide across a village known as Little Hangleton, upon those hills was a manor the age and hardships shining brightly through the cracks of its shelter.

It's creepy and haunting to those of the village whom look upon it. Rubies go around the village of a mishap and brutal murder that took place half a century ago. A family, the most wealthy family of the village was murdered. Speculations and gossip went around like wild fire on who the murderer was for no three healthy people could drop dead for no reason.

A man named frank, a muggle man who was their gardener at the time of their death had been arrested under suspicion of their death.

But alas he was let free that didn't stop the nasty looks and whispers that followed his trail though.

50 years later and he still gardens the property for every knew owner though he knows something isn't quite right with this place knows to the village as riddle manor.

Though there was no obvious signs of forced entry frank knew there was someone, an unwelcome guest in the house.

Treading the decaying house careful not to make a sound as to alert the intruders he walks up the stairs.

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. 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."

"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,"Frank turned his right ear towards the door, the better to hear. There came the c***k 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.

He 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 – I don't know, my Lord," said the voice of the pitiful man nervously.

"She set out to explore the house, I think ..."

"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail," said the voice that belonged to the inhuman man. "I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."

Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard. 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?"

"A week," said the cold voice sounding tired and raspy. "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.

"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?"

"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."

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. 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. 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. "It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord." Another pause, more protracted, and then the menacing voice cut through the silence.

"Without Harry Potter?" breathed the second voice softly. "I see ..."

"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! 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 high pitched voice softly, "it is true ..."

A while after conversing with each other or in other words the colder smaller male voice commanding and demanding the squeaky ratty man.

A long vicious snake slithers into the room hissing venomously and to the muggles wonder the inhuman man hisses back.

"Wormtail I have been informed that there's a muggle listening into our conversation, open the door so we can give our, guest a warm welcome, where are you manners?"

A man with greying and holding hair opens the door his eyes filled with fear and alarm.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" The soft cold voice of the barely human man speaks in question.

The old muggle feels his fear pushed to the side over-rid by defiance,

"What did you call me by?" His shaky but cautious voice demands an answer.

His eyes darting around the room wanting to look anywhere but the rat like person and the small intimating male.

"I called you a muggle, it means you are not a wizard," the same cold voice responds and carries on when he sees yet another confused look in the elderly gardeners face.

"Wizard I haven't any idea what you're talking about but I know I heard enough for the police you have killed people and are planning to kill more and I'll tell you this my wife knows I'm up here and if I don't come back-"

"You have no wife, nobody know you are here. You told nobody you were coming. Do not lie to lord Voldemort for he knows. He always knows."

"Is that right?" Frank said roughly. "Lord is it? Well I don't think much of your manners, my lord. Turn around and face me like a man, why don't you?"

A cold laugh, raspy and dry rings throughout the room followed by the cold voice he had become so used too, "but I am no man muggle, no I am much more than than a man, but why not, I shall face you, wormtail come turn my chair,"

The servant gave a whimper.

"You heart me wormtail," slowly his face scrunched up as though he'd rather do anything than approach his master and the hearth-rug where the snake lay, the small man walked forwards and began too turn the chair.

The snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug.

And then the chair was facing frank, and he saw who or more so what was sitting in it. A thump was sounded throughout the death room as the old mans walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter.

He opened his mouth to let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as it raised its wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and the body of Frank Bryce crumpled. He was fine before he hit the floor.

A few hundred miles away a boy and girl wake up with a start.

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Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm friends with the right people or if I should listen to what everyone says and become 'friends' with the so called better people.

But then it's times like these that remind me why this is right for me.

"Goyle you f*****g i***t I'm going to kill you," Clara shouts in a fit of rage.

Her long honey blonde hair coming apart from its tidy bun as she starts chasing after Goyle.

Her bright hazel eyes shining with amusement, anger and mischief as she pounces on him crushing him and holds her weapon to his head.

"Give it back or I will throw it," she threatens and I bite back my laugh as I see the fear on his face.

"Fine but please don't throw it," he gives her the makeup pallet that he took from her. It was eyeshadow and it was destroyed.

Clara shrieks and screams as loud as she can attracting the attention of Lucy and Cissa.

I look at them and they give me a questioning look but I just shake my head with a smirk.

I hear another scream and see Clara has used her weapon against him. Chocolate cake and she has thrown it across the room so it's very clear it's inedible.

"Noo why would you do that you could've given it to me instead what a waste of food," Crabbe says in a way that a parent would when disappointed.

"Well kids while that was quite interesting we should be going now so we can get too our seats. Come," we all walk up to Narcissa and Lucius and grab onto their arms so we can apparate to the venue of the Quidditch World Cup.

I latch onto Cissas arm and feel my stomach doing flips and when we get there I stumble a bit only being caught by Draco who raises a cocky eyebrow with his perfect landing.

I'm still not used to the feeling of apparition but it's steadily getting better.

I walk with my arm intertwined with Clara, my roommate who I wasn't too close to at first but got closer too after second year.

As we are walking through the stands and making our way up to the top I look down, I don't know why so please don't ask, and I instantly regret it. I'm f*****g terrified of heights I know it sounds stupid a witch who loves flying, whose on the quidditch team is scared of heights but I am.

I walk a bit closer to the seats so I'm as far away from the edge as possible and wonder just how high up we actually are.

Thankfully we soon come too a stop and it's obviously my look I see my brother and his looser friends walking in the same direction.

Ignoring their existence we turn to minister fudge.

"Ah fudge," Lucius says holding out his hand as he reaches for the minister of magic. Total wimp he is.

"How are you I don't think you've met my wife Narcissa, our son Draco,"

Draco shakes his hand and He kisses Cissas knuckles.

During an awkward and intense moment, mr Weasley and Lucius, Lucius speaks.

"Good lord Arthur, what did You have to get seats in the top box, surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much," I smirk at the Weasleys whose faces have gone as red as their hair. Whether from embarrassment or anger I'm not yet sure.

I just get glares in return.

The minister who obviously hasn't been listening speaks up just as Lucy had previously.

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to st. Mungos hospital for magical maladies and injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

Lucius looks smug and looks down on Arthur and the rest of the Weasley's with a sick type of pleasure at their obvious and badly concealed hatred.

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After a while of them playing angry screams erupt from the stadium and it's because they don't want the Veela that Bulgaria bought with them to leave.

Draco is looking at the girl dreamily and I scoff.

"Please Draco don't tell me you are also bewitched by the blonde Veela bitch."

Everyone who around me heard looked at me annoyed and in disbelief all but the mud blood and maybe those smart enough and well trained in resisting the Veelas charm.

Hermione looked at me at nodded her head in agreement. For once the mud blood seems to make more f*****g sense than the platinum blonde I call a friend.

After ages of boring quidditch and watching the boys complain and shout about what should and shouldn't happen to be honest I've lost track, I hear a booming voice echo through the stadiums.

"IRLAND WIN KRUM GETS THE SNITCH BUT IRLAND WIN, good god I don't believe any of us were expecting that,"

And then we leave but I couldn't of really be prepared for what had come next.

Ok wow this is a long ass chapter I hope you like it I wrote it while at football practice. British football or what the Americans call soccer.

See ya soon my little snakelets