Instead of going to all that trouble, why not just find a Muggle, let them win a prize, and go on a month-long vacation?
So, one thing led to another, and William went to find his "old friend."
As for the old Blake house... Anyway, for the next year, he and Lupin would be staying at the school, so that mess of a house, like a dog kennel, could just stay as it is and let Sirius deal with it himself.
Of course, he suspected Sirius might be scheming about how to relocate the house's original owner to Hawaii.
What do you mean by 'a cuckoo in the robin's nest'?! Look into my eyes! Then I ask you, did the Muggle get any money?!
"...By the way, Harry, why don't you come with us too."
Then, as if remembering something, William waved to Harry, and then, clutching Sirius who was trying to escape but now couldn't even move, he continued towards the basement. He had to ask this guy properly what "if you're bad at it, just practice more" meant.
Seeing all three planning to go down, Lupin decided not to stay upstairs. He picked up the suspicious-looking Kabuda from the floor and followed with a plate of crispy meat.
...
...
"..."
Watching Sirius, who was passed out, his butt up, slumped in the corner in a melting "Orz" pose, and then looking at William who was just getting warmed up in the middle of the area, Harry couldn't help but swallow.
Ah, the flashbacks are attacking my brain... He remembered, he remembered it all!
Cedric, who was beaten up every day until he couldn't get out of bed, those stormy charms, and not even having time to cast an Iron Armor Spell... William gestured for Harry to come forward, but he blinked instead—if there was any hope, he would've turned and run by now, even if it meant returning to the Dursleys to eat porridge and drink water!
Is it too late?
"So, you had a dream again last night?"
In the end, after a fierce inner battle, Harry hesitantly stood across from William. But before he could get into position and mentally prepare, William suddenly spoke up.
"You saw my letter... oh right,"
At the mention of this subject, Harry immediately perked up, he glanced at Hedwig sitting not far away facing off with the family of Cheetahs, "I dreamt of... Voldemort, and his servant again." Harry frowned, feeling the familiar pain in his scar, and instinctively raised his hand to cover his forehead.
But he still forced himself to hold back the pain and started to recount the things he could barely remember.
"A servant?"
William squinted his eyes, hissing—that group of Death Eaters, could there really be an overlooked straggler?
Didn't he visit everyone on the list?
It seems the information from Malfoy might not be comprehensive... or is this a new servant?
"Do you remember what he looked like?"
William asked while stepping forward, placing his magic wand on Harry's temple, releasing magic power to slowly and carefully investigate Harry... The key thing here wasn't just Voldemort's revival, or the mysterious servant—
But why is it that Harry can still dream about Voldemort?
Wasn't the diary's Little Tom left with Voldemort? And the other Soul Artifacts didn't even show up, let alone trigger anything, so what's with Harry's dream? By logic, they should have no connection anymore, could it be a sixth sense? ...It can't just be a nightmare, right?
"...I don't remember, I only recall he was a young man."
Harry rubbed his forehead, speaking with a hint of uncertainty, "Voldemort mentioned his name in between, but... I can't recall, hiss—ahhh..." The wave of pain crashed against his brain, and Harry uncontrollably let out a groan.
"If you can't remember, then don't force it."
William shook his head, trying to trigger the Ancient Magic within Harry—it's still there, he had merely erased Little Tom's memories of Ancient Magic, and Harry's still had it, what does this suggest?
Perhaps Harry naturally had a slight knack for Ancient Magic? Or is it because Tom didn't leave completely?
If it's innate, then... could it be hereditary?
William was fairly certain now that in the century he was gone, the only person to touch his restriction was probably Harry's mother, Lily Evans.
But, as far as he knew, Lacockham's son didn't inherit this talent.
As for the other two...
Isadora, who became a professor just to "take a big bite of the big melon," also hadn't had time to find a partner, and there wasn't any control group for comparison. After pondering for a while, William could only attribute the talent issue on Harry to Lily, a woman mysterious enough that even Dumbledore couldn't fully understand her.
Otherwise, if Little Tom's extraction wasn't thorough, retaining something akin to remnants from a large intestine.
Then the problem would be of greater magnitude—because in his thorough investigation just now, William hadn't sensed any strangeness, the boy's soul was whole, not even frayed, and there was no foreign matter attached to Harry's soul.
This means that Harry doesn't possess any of the learning conditions William previously concluded—
Then, what could it be?
While pondering, William guided his magic to seal Harry's emotions, instantly collecting the expression on the boy's face. He sniffled and stood upright again.
"Voldemort has been resurrected? But why is he hiding?"
Lupin stood up as well, frowning. Having participated in the First Wizarding War, he was well informed of Voldemort's style, a person who, after establishing his own force, did things so high-profile it wasn't even funny—
Sirius had even complained once: is that bastard so high-profile that he'd even make a headline of taking a dump?
But now, according to Harry's descriptions, that always eccentric and reckless Dark Lord would have hidden himself?
Why?
... Why else?
William touched his nose, thinking he might have guessed the truth—
Prison Voldemort could very likely be scared of being beaten by him. It made sense; even when the opponent was half-dead, William would chase him, drag him from the Illusory Realm, and beat him again, to the point of head-bursting with a stick, putting himself in their shoes...
William started feeling a little frightening.
Chasing with intent to kill...
Of course, William didn't voice his speculation because it felt like bragging, but luckily, Lupin didn't dwell on it.
The man naturally started believing that Voldemort wasn't capable of making any big waves.
"Alright, let's not think about these things, let's get to it."
"...Let's get to what?"
"Let's see if your combat skills have gotten rusty." William stepped back two paces, raising his magic wand, "Attack me full force at my weakest point!"
"...Just because you couldn't beat a Niffler in a game just now?"
With emotions sealed, Harry wasn't as afraid as before. He scratched his head, blurting out.
"..."
Visibly, a vein on William's forehead twitched slightly.
"I was just kidding..."
Harry suddenly sensed danger in the atmosphere. He instinctively threw up an Iron Armor Spell in front of him while trying to explain.
But the next moment, a red charm as thick as a bucket pierced through the air, swallowing Harry's remaining words.
...
Five minutes later, Harry lay alongside Sirius, and, seeing William still steamed, Lupin quietly shrank back, minimizing his presence.
Can't see me, can't see me...