Blood was splattered throughout the room. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. They ruined Petunia Dursley's pearly white walls that she washed every Saturday morning. Harry was usually forced to help her while Vernon worked and Dudley went out or just watched television. He was rather plump back then, but when Harry had last seen him, he was thinning out rather fairly. He wondered what his cousin looked like nowadays.
Ginny gasped as well did Hermione. Ron's eyes widened in horror. This was so unbelievable. They hadn't been in the house many times, but they could already tell it was absolutely destroyed.
Stains of red were covered the floors and walls and furniture. Hints of life had not existed in the room until they saw the frail figure emerge from the staircase. Harry's eyes flickered between the steps and his old room under the cupboard. How nostalgic!
It was Mrs. Figg, Harry's old neighbor. She was a little mysterious, but Harry knew she had been a Squib. Harry noticed how skinny and lanky she looked now with her ragged, gray hair tied into a messy bun. She didn't look anything near healthy.
"Harry?!" she exclaimed, "It's so great to see you! I knew that you would come someday! I just wasn't sure when exactly. Y'know, I missed you."
She nodded and hugged him. This was out of the ordinary. Only one time did Mrs. Figg attempt to be nice to him was before his fifth year after the dementor attack with Dudley (who was passed out and useless). Although she did allow him to eat cake that she made, which was always infested with her cats' hairs.
"This is Ron, Gi-" Harry started, but was interrupted, quickly.
"I know, I know. All of you were in the news the entire time the War ended. What brings you here?"
Harry shot Hermione a dirty glance and looked at Mrs. Figg.
She understood what he meant as she nodded.
"What happened here?" he asked, nervously, not really willing to handle the truth. She twitched at the question, nervously, and flushed red. Her thin cheekbones showed noticably. She must have been depressed.
"Well, a family moved in here last year, after the Dursleys took off. They were so kind and loving to everyone in the neighborhood. Then one night, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came and...." she explained. She didn't need to finish the sentence because everyone already knew what happened after that.
Hermione bit her lip. It began to hurt soon, so she decided to stop. She quivered in her spot and tapped her foot, looking for a clock.
"Their bodies were found in the backyard in a hole. This blood is the same from that very same night. I haven't, er, had a chance to clean."
Harry's brow furrowed, furiously. How could this happen? Voldemort was merciless. Had he no soul or care about other peoples' lives? Obviously, not. He narrowed his eyes.
He had visions of that night. The scar didn't burn, but his brain did. Memories that Voldemort left behind had entered his mind.
"Vernon Dursley?" a black figure at the door croaked. It was Voldemort. He looked a bit like a Dementor with legs. It was frightening to see him open the door so creepily.
"No... he's gone," replied the frightened, young father, "and he won't come back. He moved out months ago. I swear it!"
Voldemort's figure moved into the house and his eyes twitched. His lips curled. His narrow eyes stared at the man and looked around the home. He was searching for the Dursleys.
"Liar," he hissed, loudly and angrily.
"Sarah! Get the kids! Run! Let's go! C'mon!" the father shrieked to the woman in the background by the sink. She dropped the glass she had been drying by hand and ran upstairs. The scene reminded Harry of his own parents at this point. How they thought of their children before themselves. That was true love.
The man distracted Voldemort, by throwing a lamp directly into his face.
"Relashio!" Voldemort screamed, his wand lunging towards the man. He ducked behind the recliner right next to him and waited. Voldemort searched for the man, as he held his wand as a weapon. Suddenly, Sarah, his wife, threw a plate at the back of Voldemort's head. She successfully hit him and grabbed her children, helping them out of the kitchen window.
"Mommy loves you, Shawn. Be good," she whispered, her heartbeat going wild. Voldemort crept behind Sarah right after she helped her daughter out of the window.
"Avada Ke-!" he screamed, cut off by being attacked with a chair. It was the father. Voldemort turned around, and Sarah reached for his wand. After a few attempts, she finally snatched it as her husband was wrestling with the Dark Lord.
"I know what you are. You're wizard. I'm not afraid of you," she said, panting from all the work she was doing. Ironically, Sarah had gone to Hogwarts as she had been a witch when alive. She was holding the wand, intimidatingly and casted an uneffective spell. Voldemort laughed at her misfortune.
"Foolish, woman. You're probably just a filthy, little Mudblood," he spat, stealing the wand back, "and I would have let you die, painlessly, but I guess you want it the hard way!"
Harry tried to look away as Voldemort cut Sarah and her husband to pieces, mercilessly. He nearly vomited at the sight of Voldemort finding their children. He made them watch their parents die, and he killed the daughter along with them.
However, the son, Shawn, ran up to Harry's old room. Harry noticed his mom and dad's old picture in the background as they tried to hide. He felt it was inappropriate to smile, but he wanted to.
The child reminded Harry of himself when he was nearly killed. A child with no fight who lived through a curse that would instantly kill a grown man or woman.
But the little boy wasn't as lucky as Harry. He dived out of the window, was cursed, and fell to his death.
The memory flashed and ended. Harry gasped and told the others what he saw.
"Harry. Are you sure you didn't just make this up?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.
Ginny was the only one to not talk. Her tears explained her feelings already. Her nose sniffled, furiously as her make-up started to run.
He nodded at Hermione's question.
"I know what I saw. Why would I make this up, Hermione? Please let me know. But, strangely, I saw a familiar face in the memory. Remember Shawn... outside there? He was in the memory," Harry explained, shakily.
Mrs. Figg remained completely sober. Her eyes were focused on the ground as she spoke up, "That was my grandson, Potter. Voldemort killed him, savagely. He let him fall from a two-story building."
"I'm... I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized. She was crying, but had most of her face covered as she rested on Ron's shoulder. Ron stared at the ground, as he comforted Hermione.
Alexis must have been the daughter also, because he remembered seeing her being killed by Voldemort along with her parents. He shuddered at the memories. It was shameful to think anyone, even Voldemort, kill children.
After the goodbyes to Mrs. Figg and the last tour of Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry and his friends left to the Burrow. Harry decided to make a goal to see the Dursleys some time soon. He need to speak with them.
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