Heart and Soull

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His minions were currently out doing his bidding, all except the groveling fool Pettigrew, who was now in an upstairs room keeping watch for any hint of trouble. Voldemort did not think anyone would find him here, but he had not become one of the most feared and hated men in the history of the wizarding world by being careless.

Left to his own devices, the dark lord immediately settled into one of the things he did best—he plotted and pondered his next moves.

This new news of French involvement with Harry Potter was troubling. Not that he had expected Fudge's persecution (at Lucius' urging, of course) to succeed—on the contrary, he had firmly expected Dumbledore to crush the Minister's initiative with little or no trouble. The manner in which Fudge's defeat had occurred had been unexpected, though, and although Voldemort had no proof whatsoever, he was certain the way it had played out had been orchestrated by Dumbledore for some particular purpose which Voldemort was not yet able to see. After all, Dumbledore had allowed this French ambassador to do most of the talking and the tearing apart of Fudge's arguments, and though it was possible that age was finally catching up to the old man, Voldemort did not think that was the case. Dumbledore's actions in the past several years suggested the man was still fully in control of his magical and mental capacities. Dumbledore had not gotten to where he was today by being a political lightweight.

The dark lord bared his lips in an unsightly sneer. Voldemort's own rise to power had certainly not been characterized by incompetence—even his enemies were willing to allow him that much. Dumbledore was a worthy opponent; he would definitely have to be removed in order to ensure Voldemort's ultimate victory.

No, whatever Dumbledore was playing at, Voldemort was certain it had been planned and executed meticulously, with nothing left to chance, which meant that Dumbledore had some purpose in orchestrating the incident. Did it have to do with bringing the French into the conflict as allies, or did he have some other more… esoteric purpose which the dark lord had yet to discover?

No matter—eventually Dumbledore would be forced to tip his hand, and the dark lord would be ready for him. Besides, two could play at that game—Voldemort was certain there were just as many discontented Purebloods in France as there were in Britain.

The problem of Potter was a tricky one; twice now he had defied and defeated, or at the very worst escaped from a fully constituted dark lord at the height of his powers. It was troubling to say the least. Perhaps there was more to the prophecy which Voldemort had not considered yet. Perhaps there was more to it than he had been led to believe. It would bear some further thought.

As for the meddling foreigner, he would have to be taught in the harshest manner possible about the perils of involving himself in a matter which was not of his concern. A message would have to be sent, an indication of what would happen if he continued on his course of supporting the boy—it was imperative that Harry Potter be as isolated from the rest of the wizarding world as possible. Malfoy's job was to sow the seeds, in the matter of the trial, among other plans, of young Harry's disenchantment from the general public. That was the most important consideration right now.

Yes, a message would be sent—one to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. It need not be done immediately; they could afford to wait several months if necessary, before the right circumstance presented itself. He would have to speak to Lucius and arrange it. The dark lord smiled unpleasantly—the world would again learn to fear the name of Voldemort.

Dumbledore apparated them to a small park not far from the Dursleys' home, and once they had ensured their arrival had not been witnessed, Dumbledore and Jean-Sebastian shook hands and the Headmaster disapparated away.

Smiling at Harry, Jean-Sebastian motioned for him to lead the way to his relatives' house, noting with a frown the look of trepidation which appeared on Harry's face.

"I don't think I've left anything behind," Harry began softly, his eyes never meeting Jean-Sebastian's face. "Maybe we could go straight to France?"

Regarding his ward, Jean-Sebastian thought again about his scant knowledge of Harry's life with his relatives, understanding that this reaction was more evidence of the fact that it had not been a good life. Whatever Harry's reservations were, they would need to be addressed and their effects resolved so his future son-in-law could move on with his life.

"Perhaps not," Jean-Sebastian replied, "but I would prefer to make certain. In any case, we should at least inform them of your change in status and let them know you will never live with them again."

"Like they care," Harry muttered under his breath—Jean-Sebastian had to strain to hear Harry's words, frowning when he realized the implications. He would need to find out sooner rather than later the details of Harry's upbringing.

Turning with some abruptness, Harry began walking down the street, prompting Jean-Sebastian to pursue him. "They won't like us showing up, sir," he said, his voice quiet. "They've never wanted to have anything to do with my world before."

"Do not worry, Harry. I can deal with them. They cannot be any worse than dealing with Fudge."

Harry threw a wry grin back at his companion, and they chuckled together, Jean-Sebastian happy he had been able to release the tension in his charge.

The distance was short, and soon they arrived at a sleepy-looking street. A row of Muggle houses met Jean-Sebastian's gaze, and although the area appeared to be a little older, the houses were generally neat and in good repair. It was like any other Muggle neighborhood, with nothing that suggested it was anything out of the ordinary—of course, it had housed the most famous wizard in magical Britain for almost the last fourteen years of his life, which made it remarkable, to the wizarding world at least.

The house to which Harry led them was as commonplace as the rest—it looked comfortable, but not overly large, and it had well manicured lawns and foliage in good repair.

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