The Hogwarts Express, trailing black smoke, chugged away, rattling off into the distance.
Laughter and chatter from the students echoed from daylight into dusk.
Vernon Dursley stood at the station, fiddling with a cigarette. A nearby policeman watched him like a hawk, just waiting for him to light it.
Vernon glanced at his watch.
The hour and minute hands neared the same time Harry usually arrived in previous years. He leaned forward, peering into the station.
Ah—
There they were, those children who never knew how to dress properly, emerging in all their outlandish glory with no regard for secrecy.
Vernon scoffed, shaking his head.
But no Harry.
No sign of that infuriating Sirius Black either.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Dursley?" a clear female voice called, just as he was about to grumble about the delay.
He turned to his left and saw a brown-haired girl.
"Harry might not be coming home this summer," she said.
"Not coming back?" Vernon's heart skipped a beat.
Harry always came home. He had to. Something about the magic's protection required him to spend a month at Privet Drive each year. Why wouldn't he return now?
Unexpected things always made Vernon anxious.
"Don't worry, he's fine," Hermione shook her head. "But this summer, he has something very important to do with Professor Dumbledore."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter.
"Harry meant to send this through Hedwig, but I thought it'd be better to give it to you in person."
"He'll return to visit before the end of summer."
That last part calmed Vernon somewhat. He accepted the letter. "You're that little git's girlfriend?"
Hermione blushed and nodded shyly.
Vernon didn't say more.
He eyed her approvingly—at least Harry had good taste in girls. She didn't look like one of those mad, cackling witches. She looked… normal. Unlike Lily, who was excellent at everything except choosing partners—why she'd go for a lunatic like James Potter…
Vernon watched Hermione get into a well-kept car.
A normal household, likely middle class.
He nodded in satisfaction.
But then, his smile froze. He remembered—Harry's surname was "Potter," not "Evans" or "Dursley."
Suddenly his mood soured.
The Potters had good taste. James found Lily. Now Harry had found this girl.
Unlike his own son, who—thanks to slimming and beauty potions—caused trouble everywhere. A new girlfriend every three days, either biker types or garishly styled punks.
Vernon sighed heavily and drove home.
—
At Hogwarts.
With the students gone, the castle was quiet and cold. Even the Black Lake lost its usual liveliness, its ripples strangely ominous.
Harry and Dumbledore walked out of the castle.
"Harry, you're really not going back?" Dumbledore asked. "It is summer break."
"I doubt Tom's giving himself a vacation," Harry said, pulling out a slip of paper Rita had prepared from the Sorting Hat. "Where first? These pure-blood families are all over the place."
Dumbledore peered over. "The Selwyns. They're in Plymouth. Shall we start with the farthest?"
Harry nodded.
Dumbledore grabbed his wrist, and with a sharp pop, they Apparated away, reappearing at a coastal town.
"Let me think… I've been to their place before," Dumbledore said, leading the way.
Almost all pure-blood estates were far from Muggle settlements.
Regardless of their stance on blood purity, wizards and Muggles lived in separate worlds.
The Gaunts were at the edge of a village. So were the Weasleys.
The Blacks had once lived remotely, but London expanded too fast, forcing them into the city.
The Selwyns were typical—they lived atop a cliff by the sea.
Their estate was old and run-down, protected by weak magic to deter Muggles—but not enough to fool Harry and Dumbledore.
They knocked.
A shriveled house-elf popped into view. "Honored visitors, what business brings you? The Selwyn estate has received no visiting cards."
Its gaze locked on Dumbledore, ignoring Harry entirely.
"We'd like to see the current master of the house," Dumbledore said calmly.
"Please submit your visiting card. So-so will inform the master, and if he approves—"
Harry cut him off. "Now's not the time. Tell your master that Dumbledore and Potter are here."
The elf blinked at Harry. "How dare a half-blood speak that way before the great Selwyn—"
Harry silenced it with a flick of his wand, binding it in twisted fenceposts.
"Harry, we could have talked…" Dumbledore sighed.
"We're not here for pleasantries. We're here for Horcruxes," Harry replied.
They entered.
The garden was barely maintained. Some rare plants still clung to life—more for show than passion. The family couldn't afford to keep up appearances anymore.
The inside was spotless but lifeless—no signs of daily living, only relentless elf labor.
Only on the third floor did they hear breathing.
In the study.
Harry pushed open the door.
"So-so! How dare you enter without knocking!" came a frail, angry voice.
"I'm not your elf. Look properly," Harry replied.
The old man looked up, startled at the sight of Dumbledore, then confused by Harry. The face, the voice, even the amber slit pupils were unfamiliar—but the names weren't.
"Dumbledore. And Potter?"
"I don't recall scheduling you two," Selwyn sneered.
Harry pulled out his wand. "Doesn't matter. I'll ask questions. You'll answer. Understood?"
"A threat?" Selwyn's eyes narrowed.
"You could call it that."
"First question—have you had contact with Voldemort recently?"
The name hit hard.
Selwyn trembled.
Harry twirled his wand.
He remembered the stories—Little Hangleton's Butcher, and now Dumbledore silently approving behind him. Swallowing his fury, he whispered, "No."
"Contact with your Death Eater children counts too," Harry said.
"…Then yes."
"What did you discuss?"
"Domestic matters," Selwyn said, eyes closed, slumping in his chair.
"Perhaps we should sit and talk?" Harry conjured two chairs. He and Dumbledore sat.
Selwyn remained silent.
"Let me explain why we came uninvited," Harry continued, pouring Butterbeer for them both. "First—debt collection. The Selwyns owe the Potters a hefty patent fee on our hair tonic."
Selwyn cracked an eye open. "I heard you hit the Malfoys with this too."
"Second—did Voldemort ever leave anything in your care?" Harry asked flatly.
Selwyn squinted. "The Dark Lord? Entrust us with something?"
"No. My son's a Death Eater, but the family… didn't fully support him."
"Really?" Harry nodded. "Then Dumbledore and I will search the house."
"Absolutely not! That's an insult!" Selwyn snapped.
Harry rested his wand on his lap. "You don't have a choice. This benefits you too."
Selwyn stared at the well-kept wand.
After a moment, he sighed. "Fine. Just this once."
—
An hour later, they left the Selwyn estate.
Harry stuffed a sack of Galleons into the Sorting Hat, and pocketed a family crest pin—a token that granted access to the Selwyn vault at Gringotts.
"Gringotts next?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry thought for a moment. "Let's wait. Even if the Horcrux is there, Voldemort could still move it. Every spell leaves traces. If there's a mark, we'll go for Tom directly."
Dumbledore nodded, grabbed Harry's wrist, and they Apparated—
Off to the second stop: the Rowles' in Exeter.
Day one of summer break.
Harry and Dumbledore, diligent as ever, began their round of visits to the ten most notorious Death Eater families.
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Powerstones?
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