Almost two months had passed since Harry's first visit to the Granger residence.
In these past two months, Harry had been a regular visitor at the Granger residence.
He and Hermione had spent a lot of time together, and their bond had become closer than ever.
Dobby, the house-elf, had also settled himself well in the Potter Manor. The elf was enjoying his new life cooking for and serving his new lord, Harry Potter.
On the other hand, although Harry still did not have full access to the Potter Manor—he only had access to one room, the main hall, and the kitchen, he was enjoying a serene life there. It was not as if he had nothing to do, but anything major he wanted to change would have to wait until he gained the Potter Lordship.
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Harry was sitting beside the water stream, enjoying the calmness of the serene atmosphere, when Dobby popped next to him.
"Lord Potter," said Dobby. "You have a letter."
Harry nodded and took the letter. He had been expecting it. The letter had originally been delivered to his old address, Privet Drive, through Muggle means, but Dobby had intercepted it.
It was a letter from his 'dear friend' Ron Weasley, inviting him to the Quidditch World Cup final about to be held in a few days.
Harry read the letter and smirked. It was one of the events he had been waiting for. This Quidditch World Cup final, in a way, could be said to be the mark of the start of his problems in his fourth year at Hogwarts. The escape of Barty Crouch Sr. The attack of the death eaters.
But this time, things were going to be different. Harry was going to change the script of the story that was about to unfold.
With a snap of his fingers, Harry summoned a parchment and a quill. He scrawled a reply on the parchment and handed it to Dobby who took the letter and vanished with a pop to deliver it.
Harry had been sitting by the stream for the entire day. He was wondering if he should pay Hermione another visit when he felt a twinge in his senses. An evil smirk appeared on Harry's face as he vanished from the spot with a twist of space.
When Harry reappeared, he found himself in a desolate and dark place. It was already night time, and he could tell that he had traversed a few time zones.
From the surroundings- small houses and cottages, he could tell it was some kind of small settlement, and he was in one of its isolated alleys.
In front of Harry, a lady in her late thirties stood trembling in fear and her face was marred with extreme fright and anxiety. She was none other than Bertha Jorkins.
Her body was covered with a green-coloured hue, while her wand lay a few feet away from her.
Facing her stood a very short and scrawny man. He was thin and had a bald patch on his head. His entire appearance was unkempt and dirty. He was Peter Pettigrew. The rat. The traitor. The coward.
Peter had been in luck today. He was in Albania, serving his master, Lord Voldemort. Voldemort only tolerated Peter since the Dark Lord had no other servants to serve him at the moment, Peter knew it very well, that it was only a matter of time before he would be discarded.
Peter knew he had to prove his usefulness to Voldemort if he wanted to remain at this side. He had no other option. He could not return back to Britain and with Voldemort still being alive it was a matter before the Dark Lord will take over Britain.
And who would have expected he would find such a rare opportunity?
Tonight, in a wayside inn, he had run into Bertha Jorkins. She was here on holiday.
No doubt, she had easily recognised Peter, but the dumb fellow she was, he had easily convinced her to take a stroll with him in the woods. He had convinced her about some mystery magic for the reason of his disappearance and him appearing dead.
In a matter of moments, he had overpowered her and was about to capture her to bring to his master when a green-coloured hue suddenly appeared surrounding Bertha's body and had rebounded his spell.
The appearance of this hue had shocked Peter, and the pathetic wizard he was, he understood that it was a high-level magic, something leagues ahead of him.
Before he could think much, he heard a chuckle. He turned his neck to see a familiar face standing before him.
"Peter Pettigrew, the rat," said Harry with a mocking face.
Bertha turned around with an expectant eye, while Peter looked up to see the young man walking towards him with blazing green eyes.
"Harry Potter," muttered Peter. He could not understand what this brat was doing here all of a sudden.
He fired a spell towards Harry Potter and turned to run away. In Peter's mind, it was not possible that Harry was alone. If not Dumbledore, then at least Sirius or Remus must be with the brat.
Peter had barely taken a few steps and was just about to apparate when he felt a presence in front of him. He came face-to-face with the same blazing green eyes, and he gulped in fear.
"Always trying to run, huh?" Harry muttered slowly. "But now it seems your luck is over."
With this, Harry raised his fist, and a punch came smacking right at Peter's face. The rat felt a few of his teeth shattering while he himself was thrown away onto the ground.
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