Harry Potter had recently suffered heavy blows. First, he witnessed his godfather die before his very eyes.
Then he saw the silver slime created by Regulus Black, a small conscious creature that exposed all of Harry's soul secrets. And afterward, a Muggle somehow discovered the secret of Number 4, Privet Drive. Heaven only knew why such an improbable event occurred.
The wizards' Muggle-Repelling Charm had always been reliable, and the Fidelius Charm even more so. For centuries, both spells had proven their worth. No Muggle had ever managed to break through their defenses.
Yet this one did—by the strangest means.
Every midnight, his right eye would ache, forcing him to close it. With only his left eye open, he could see Number 4, Privet Drive, protected by both charms.
It was utterly unscientific, completely unmagical, yet seemed innate.
The truth was, this Muggle's constitution was even worse than that of a Squib. He possessed a feeble spiritual sensitivity that allowed him to glimpse abnormal phenomena. Normally, this only meant seeing souls and such. No one had expected him to glimpse the "haunted house" of Number 4, Privet Drive.
It was truly ghostly!
Peter Pettigrew had even hit him with the Cruciatus Curse, yet the stubborn fool bounced back after a week and continued lurking near Number 4.
Killing him was, of course, possible. But the aftermath would bring endless trouble. Neither the Muggle government nor the Ministry of Magic would tolerate such an incident.
It was different from when Regulus Black eliminated Barty Crouch Jr. back then—that had been to cover up a Ministry scandal, with backup plans prepared. Even if the Ministry turned its back, there were countermeasures in place.
Harry Potter was tormented. He felt he was no longer the same. Voldemort inside his body was an enemy that had to be purged, but Harry had no wish to die in the process.
Voldemort, on the other hand, longed to seize Harry's body. Once he succeeded, he had more than enough means to erase Harry's soul and consciousness.
The problem now was that their souls were entangled. Both resisted the fusion, yet it continued regardless. Their opposition, combined with the merging, created a third consciousness.
This was a deranged consciousness, one that sought only destruction. Born from the scars of both Harry and Voldemort, it grew into something that wanted to harm everyone.
It was horrifying. Not even Harry would accept it—and neither would Voldemort.
But this battle within the mind and soul was beyond outside help. It was far more complex than Harry's state as a Horcrux had ever been.
"My Lord! This place is no longer safe. That Muggle's surveillance continues. We…"
After Pettigrew's death, Lucius Malfoy had become the Death Eaters' leader here. He had once relied on Pettigrew to share Voldemort's wrath. Now no other Death Eater was willing to take the role, even if it meant sharing power with Lucius. They all appeared obedient to both Voldemort and Lucius.
"Just an unprecedented anomaly. The odds are so low that even the Department of Mysteries would be intrigued. Ignore him. Once we leave, he'll pose no threat. We were planning to move anyway."
Handsome Harry Potter glanced at Aunt Petunia. Vernon and Dudley were long gone, reduced to nothing but bones. Petunia remained, serving as a household slave.
Her memory had not been altered, yet her body was under control. She had endured the most painful months of her life, and now she felt she was dying. Once these people left, she would be useless, destined to perish like her husband and son, leaving not even a trace behind.
Terror crept over her face. She waited for the curse that would finish her.
"Lucius, alter this woman's memory. Harry still needs a relative. Clean up here, then we'll move to the Gaunt family's old home."
Voldemort's command was, of course, obeyed.
"I cannot occupy this body too often. Moving in and out of Hogwarts is too inconvenient. After the relocation, continue recruiting an army. Once the time is ripe, I'll deal with that old fool at Hogwarts."
In the original story, Draco Malfoy had been needed as an insider at Hogwarts. Now, that was unnecessary—Harry himself sufficed.
In truth, this change was a relief for Lucius Malfoy. He no longer had to fear for his son's safety.
And so, Voldemort's Death Eaters withdrew, leaving Number 4 and a broken Aunt Petunia behind.
When Vico Roland arrived at dawn, she was staring blankly at him.
The once-promising Silver Right Hand series was cut short. Vico Roland had only just been promoted to manager.
Receiving word from Lucius about the Death Eaters' departure, Regulus Black came to clean up loose ends.
Vico Roland's eyes and thoughts had been tampered with. When he thought he saw a haunted house, he was merely helping Regulus Black monitor it.
Every night, while Regulus traveled to America, Vico's observations were stored in his mind. Upon Regulus's return to Britain, a single spell allowed him to review all of it.
In fact, Vico wasn't the only watcher. Twenty-four Muggles in total monitored the house, each for one hour a day. It didn't interfere with their lives and went unnoticed by the Death Eaters.
Vico was the only one who left his home to watch, which was why Pettigrew spotted and attacked him. If Regulus hadn't come to save him, he would be dead.
How could a Muggle withstand the Cruciatus Curse? Even so, it took him only a week to recover.
Regulus conducted all of this with extreme caution, avoiding the Death Eaters and, especially, Voldemort.
Whenever Voldemort seized control, he used the Floo in Regulus's office, exiting through Dolores Umbridge's home, then returning to Privet Drive to command operations.
Regulus had two complaints about this. First, the Ministry's Floo Network Authority had approved a temporary connection, but once it was set up, it was never dismantled—practically becoming Harry Potter's private passage.
Second, Dolores Umbridge was still missing, left behind by the centaurs. The Ministry seemed to have forgotten her.
The so-called Senior Undersecretary had simply vanished in the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps she was adapting to life in the centaur tribe.
If she came back carrying a centaur hybrid, perhaps that would better reflect the Ministry's commitment to "humanitarian care."
"When will you finally let me go?"
A stocky woman clad in bark swung a spear of branches, shouting at a centaur.
"When the Ministry comes—or when you defeat me. Otherwise, you'll stay in the tribe."
Grinning mischievously, the young centaur swatted away her spear. Spartans of old had lowered their standards to train human warriors, but this woman was nothing. Without her wand, she was worthless. That she had managed to train her body to this level was already her limit.
"Not enough! Not enough! Your attacks are weak. Haven't you eaten? No effort means no prey. No prey means hunger. It's a vicious cycle. Only by giving your all can you improve!"
The young centaur knocked Dolores Umbridge to the ground.
"Do you expect me to feed you?"
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