Attack on Diagon Alley

Once he arrived at Diagon Alley, he sat down on a bench and finally took a few minutes to catch his breath and think about the next steps. Next to him, he saw his double remove his invisibility cloak. His first instinct was to order him to put it back on, but the scorching sun dissuaded him. It was hot under the invisibility cloak and there wasn't much risk in Diagon Alley. Nevertheless, with a wave of his wand, he took his hat out of his bag and jammed it onto his head, taking great care to hide his scar.

Dark-Harry reacted to his attention with an angry look that Harry found totally adorable. He knew that the boy hated having his head wrapped with anything (partly because he himself had never been a big fan of it). However, the memory of his first day on Diagon Alley more than 3 years ago was too vivid in his mind for him to give in. And anyway, his double didn't try to protest. That, on the other hand, was very different from himself. At his age, he would have raged for hours until Petunia gave up. No doubt he hadStill afraid of him. After all, in his eyes, even if he had saved him from the Dursleys, he must only be a strange boy who looked like him and acted with him like an older brother even though they were the same age. Finally saved from the Dursleys. It was one of the many things he needed to think about quietly. He looked for a way to keep Dark-Harry occupied so he could have a moment of peace, when he saw a few meters away a playground probably intended to occupy children while their parents did their shopping on Diagon Alley.

Harry Dursley pointed at him with his finger and said:

Go play with the others. I'll stay here to watch you. Don't tell anyone your name. Lie if someone asks you.

Dark-Harry gave him an inscrutable look, then began to walk away slowly without any particular enthusiasm. Seeing him try to get rid of his hat, Harry Dursley added, trying to imitate the half-severe tone that Petunia used in such circumstances:

And above all, keep that damn hat screwed on your head or I'll cast a permanent glue spell on it.

Immediately, Dark-Harry pushed it back onto his head. Afterwards, Harry Dursley thought that the kid might think his threat was serious. But he didn't care. He had other concerns in mind, like whom to entrust him to ensure he was well treated and not sent back to the Dursleys. Normally, he would have simply gone to see Dumbledore and explained everything to him. There was no doubt that his Dumbledore would have moved heaven and earth to find him a suitable place. But the Dumbledore of this world seemed quite different. Could he really trust him? More seriously, could he afford not to trust him?

The fact was that the Dursleys were not his only problem. And even less so for Dark-Harry. There was also Voldemort. He didn't know what had become of his Voldemort, but it seemed most likely to him that he had fallen with him into the portal and was here somewhere with the three relics. If he was right, then it wouldn't be long before he plunged this world into chaos, as he had done with his own. He couldn't take the risk, he had to warn Dumbledore of the danger. In fact, he should have started with that.

Mechanically, he glanced at Dark-harry. To his great surprise, he wasn't playing with the others but had withdrawn to a corner of the park. Maybe he was too old for that. He couldn't remember at what age he had stopped playing at the Little Whinging park. Instead, Dark-harry frequently turned in his direction as if to make sure he hadn't left.

At one point, a child who seemed to be around 8 years old approached him (probably to ask him to play with him). Harry Dursley watched them interact with interest, but after a few minutes, the unknown child left, sticking out his tongue and making a very rude gesture. Harry had to restrain himself from going to scold the little wizard. He doubted that his always so polite and shy counterpart had done anything to deserve such treatment. However, he had to avoid drawing attention to himself at all costs, so he forced himself to stay calm.

But this interlude had not been useless, because it made her think of the invisibility cloak in Dark-Harry's pocket. Its presence meant that a duplicate of the Deathly Hallows was in this world. Perhaps instead of contacting Dumbledore, he could gather the three Hallows and thus fight Voldemort on equal footing and solve the problem himself (without putting anyone in danger, including his double). The concern is that unlikeVoldemort, he knew nothing of their powers or how to use them. No matter how much he racked his brains, every time he thought he had a plan, he came to the same conclusion: he lacked the information to make a decision. He absolutely needed more information, about Dumbledore, about the relics, about this world... Now, he knew where he had to go.

Hey, Harry's coming, let's go. He called, waving his hand.

The boy hurried to join him with obvious relief. Harry Dursley did not notice his satisfied smile, nor even less that at the moment he was leaving, the boy with whom Dark-Harry had argued fell very unnaturally from the slide and broke a leg.

oOoOoOoOo

Dark-Harry wandered in amazement through the aisles of the gigantic Fleury and Bott bookstore. For as long as he could remember, books had been his only friends. Well, when he managed to get his hands on them. At first, he borrowed them from the library, but since Dudley and his gang regularly amused themselves by tearing or throwing his things into the mud (accusing him of doing it himself and of course everyone believed them), he was quickly banned from borrowing.

He therefore had to be content with consulting them on site when the Dursleys gave him free time or discreetly stealing them. After all, it wasn't really stealing since, due to lack of space in his cupboard, he had to return them to the library once he had finished reading them.

Even that, that fat pig Duldey had tried to take from him. He couldn't wait to better master his powers and then he would see.

It was then that two extremely rowdy kids pulled him out of his thoughts by bumping into him. They quickly muttered a 'sorry' before resuming their run and disappearing towards the exit. Dark-Harry barely had time to recover from the shock and note the redness of their hair when he saw a woman with similar hair pass in front of him, looking around with a worried expression.

He thought about reporting them just to annoy them, but instead grumbled as he walked away. He couldn't stand the commotion and sudden noises that always made him jump in fear (for that, too, he had to thank the Dursleys). Even less so when it came from spoiled children by their parents who didn't even know their luck. How he hated all those whining brats who constantly complained about their father, their mother, the toys they weren't bought, the meat they were forced to swallow. And as luck would have it, the bookstore was full of them.

But now he too had someone. And not just anyone, he thought as he watched the mysterious sorcerer who had taken his appearance and was calmly leafing through history books a few shelves away. He is much stronger than those nobodies. He had heard what people said in that sordid alley. He had seen how he had repelled his attacker and almost destroyed a building with a simple gesture while he himself was terrified. He had seen them kneel before him when they recognized him.

He was an exceptional being, and he wanted him, thought Dark-Harry as he felt a warmth he had forbidden himself to feel again engulf him. If he asked him, maybe he would teach him. Maybe he would give him a magic wand. Anyway, even if he didn't want it, he would learn.

Then someone burst through the bookstore door with a panicked face and shouted, casting wild glances all around him:

The Dark Lord! We saw her in Knockturn Alley.

"Yes well, we knew that," thought Dark-Harry with a smile. Then a sound of an explosion followed by a violent jolt made him and a good portion of the books fall to the floor.

"In fact, no, I don't know much," he thought.

But he did not have time to further his reflections as he had to roll into a corner to avoid being trampled by a panicked crowd of families jostling to reach the exit with their children. He thought ironically of the words his double had spoken upon arriving and seeing the date on a newspaper (of which Dark-Harry had been shocked to see the moving pictures on the cover):

I didn't know we were so close to the start, but it's rather good news. With all these people, we'll go unnoticed.

oOoOoOoOo

Dark-Harry was terrified. Thick smoke from a gigantic fire was obstructing his vision, and everywhere, people were screaming and jostling. At first, he hadn't been afraid. From the start of the panic in the bookstore, his double had rushed at him with wand in hand, using his magic to make his way through the panicking crowd.

He had quickly caught up with him and authoritatively held him close, asking if he was alright. Unlike the previous night, he almost immediately accepted the embrace (by reflex, when touched, he always had a recoil and a shiver of fear). Usually, he hated any intimate contact. Each time, he couldn't help but panic and think back to what Uncle Vernon did to him after some of his arguments with Petunia. But with him, it was different.

Last night, he had to make a huge effort not to run away when his double had the sudden urge to grope him in the middle of the night. He really didn't want it to happen again, but he didn't want to risk upsetting the only person who seemed to care about him. Then the minutes passed, and he understood that all he wanted was to comfort him. No one had ever made the effort to comfort him after a nightmare.

Once he had reassured his double with a quick nod about his condition, he covered him with the invisibility cloak and pulled him by the hand outside. That too was new for him. No one had ever taken him by the hand to make sure not to lose him (the very idea of Petunia panicking at the thought of his absence seemed laughable to him). For the first time in his life, he felt safe.

Thus, he was not afraid. Even when the sounds of explosions echoed in the distance and the first flames became visible behind the lowest buildings. When, despite common sense, his double led him against the crowd towards the source of the attack, he merely held his hand as tightly as possible. When the first sounds of combat and cries of pain became recognizable above the crowd's screams, he began to repeat to himself that his double must know what he was doing. That he had a plan to get them out of there. He was just smarter and more powerful than those cockroaches running like headless chickens and he had to be strong and especially not get in his way by starting to cry. Contrary to what the Dursleys claimed, he was not a whiner incapable of any gratitude. When he saw a first lifeless body along the cobblestone street, that’s when he began to be afraid.

However, his double continued his run in an inflexible manner and even increased his speed, now that he was no longer slowed by the crowd fleeing in the opposite direction. Then Dark-Harry hid his fear and tried to keep up with the frantic pace thatImposed on him... His what, by the way? He didn't really know what he was to his double. In fact, he was nothing to him. He didn't even know what he looked like without his disguise (probably a very powerful and very old wizard with a long white beard, thought Dark-Harry). What had gotten into him? His double had said it himself: he hadn't thought it through when he took him with him. When he did, his double would realize he was just a source of trouble and would abandon him. He would then be alone in this horrible place. Despite his good resolutions, he started to cry. And his tears doubled when he realized that this was surely the last straw that would convince his double that he didn't deserve to be with him.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry Dursley looked around, all his senses on alert, trying to ignore the increasingly numerous corpses that dotted his path, focusing his attention so as not to stumble on the loose cobblestones of the alley.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have rushed headlong into danger. But even if he had tried to deny it, since he had received his letter from Hogwarts, normal times were over. Too many people had died because of him and his cowardice. He would not let Voldemort continue to kill innocents because of him. This time, he would embrace his destiny and face him.

Despite his good resolutions, each step was more difficult than the last. The closer he got to the source of all this chaos, the more his fear amplified. Only the reminiscence of memories of massacres that he knew were not his, but which imprinted on his retina, prevented him. After a while that he could not identify, his memories became confused.Iranin line with reality and he forgot that he was no longer a powerless puppet reduced tohaving to contemplatethe horrors for which he was responsible.

Until, passing through yet another veil of smoke while running, a purple spell almost hit him. He immediately reconnected with reality and observedathree wizards in the uniform of the magic brigade fighting another massive wizard in a Death Eater robe. He approached, then determined to assist the ministry wizards clearly in trouble, but before he could cast any spell one of the brigadiers got between him and the Death Eater and pushed him violently:

Don't stay here. Get out. We won't hold them back for very long.

At first stunned by this behavior, Harry Dursley then remembered that he had the appearance of a 9-year-old boy. If he stayed here, he would only hinder them by forcing them to put themselves in danger to protect him. It was then that he thought of using the invisibility cloak and realized he had a big problem. The strong pressure on his hand had disappeared. His heart fell violently in his chest. He had lost Dark-Harry.

oOoOoOoOo

Dark-Harry didn't really know what had happened. Between the smoke, his tears, the fires, and the screams, everything became blurry in his mind. At one point, he fell to the ground, stumbling over the corpse of a young woman, and his knee started to bleed, but he couldn't remember if it was before or after he let go of his doppelganger's hand. In any case, he kept moving forward without looking back. Without even paying attention to himself. The Dursleys might have been right after all: he didn't deserve anyone to care about him.

Oh well, never mind, I'm better off alone anyway. Shouted Dark-Harry, completely neglecting to be discreet.

He didn't know what had made him hope. Hope for what, anyway? He was Harry Potter, and unlike other worms his age, he didn't need anyone. His double had helped him, but in the long run, he would have only slowed him down and softened him. Yet, he had to be as strong as possible if he wanted to make it in this rotten world.

He dried the last traces of his tears and massaged his head to try to make a beginning headache disappear, when he heard the cry of a young child muffled by the acrid smoke that increasingly filled the atmosphere respond to his invective:

Is anyone there? Help, come help me.

The initially modest fire was only spreading and threatened to engulf the entirety of the alley. Dark-Harry told himself that he had to stop his childishness and flee as far away as possible fromthatNightmare.

Without a hint of remorse, he began to run in the opposite direction from where the voice came (he didn't know where to go to find a safe place, but obviously not that way), when another voice responded to the first:

Harry, is that you? Stay where you are, I'm coming to get you.

Here, come quickly please. Replied the other voice.

Seized by a wild hope, he turned around and rushed towards the source of the voices, barely noticing that his headache was only getting worse and that his scar had started to bleed.

oOoOoOoOo

Fred, George? Harry shouted to make himself heard despite his disappointment at realizing it wasn't Dark-Harry.

Do we know each other? asked the twins in perfect unison. It hadn't been a minute since they found them and already their little act was annoying him. Despite their apologies and the gift of the Marauder's Map, Harry Dursley had never really forgiven them forhaving beenthe unwitting initiators of the harassment he had been a victim of during his first year at Hogwarts.

What are you doing here instead of fleeing? Playing the stupid Gryffindor would only hinder the rescue. Harry Dursley reproached them, pretending to ignore that this criticism would be very appropriate for his behavior.elementRecent.

Mom, she's trapped under the debris, go get your parents, we need to help her. George cried, pointing to a red-haired woman who must have been the matriarch of the Weasley clan, who was trapped with a man with a long black beard in the ruins of the joke shop Pirouette and Badin.

Wingardium Leviosa. Shouted Harry Dursley andthe accumulation ofdebrisinflamed with several tons who was holding their motherrose upWith lightness, as if it were a simple feather swept away by a tornado.

Once they recovered from the shock that a child younger than them could perform such magic (and had a wand while they were supposed to buy theirs at the end of the day), Fred and George rushed to free their mother and the still unconscious stranger from the debris.

Mom, wake up, please. We'll be good, we promise you.

We are sorry for disobeying and that you had to come get us.

Harry then broke the spell and rushedatowards them with her skincare routine on the tip of her tongue, then remembered at the last moment the reaction it had caused in Knockturn Alley.

Step backYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.I will take care of her. In the meantime, go get my... My twin brother. His name is Harry.

We don't abandon mom.

Harry then let his magic escape in a wave of anger.

For once in your life, do what you're told. Then, more gently, he added:

You can't do anything for her here and the sooner, I would have found Harry sooner, we can get out and find her a mediwizard.

The miniature twins entered into one of their silent conversations and finally withdrew, shouting Harry. Harry was then able to quietly focus on his care routine, but before he even began the chant, a small invisible hand timidly grasped his own.

Harry! exclaimed Harry Dursley, hugging what seemed to be empty space to any outside observer. Then, feeling through the cloak his double trembling with all his might, he continued:

I'm sorry, you must have been terrified. As soon as I have treated them, we'll get out of here.

But once again, he did not have time to start the spell as the frightened twins rushed towards them and tried to forcibly drag him and his mother away, when a cruel laugh he knew all too well pierced the mist. He only had time to invoke his most powerful shield (another spell he learned from Voldemort) before hell began to unleash. The two magics clashed violently in a gigantic explosion, but miraculously his shield held firm.

In the cloud of dust that covered the scene following the impact between their two magics, Harry could very clearly distinguish the red eyes of Lord Voldemort calmly advancing in his direction, escorted by a dozen Death Eaters.

Well, it looks like there are still some latecomers. Which of you is crazy enough to dare challenge me?

My lord, there are only children here. We should finish them quickly and flee before the arrival of the...

But the Death Eater's breath suddenly stopped, and he put his hands to his throat.

I appreciate your advice, Nott, but Lord Voldemort is tired of your injunctions to caution. My plan to penetrate Gringotts may have failed, but I feel that thea capeis very close. It is out of the question to give up so close to the goal. Is that understood?

Due to the lack of oxygen and the pressure exerted on his trachea, the Death Eater replied with difficulty:

Yes...master...pardon...me.

Voldemort then released the pressure and turned his attention to the terrified children facing him. He noticed that, curiously, the two older children were standing back and trying to wake a voluptuous woman while the youngest threatened him with his wand, a look of defiance and hatred on his face that almost managed to mask his fear. His combat stance was impeccable, but to the dark lord's eyes, it only reinforced the absurdity of the situation:

Ha ha! But he is threatening me. So young and already so presumptuous. Haven't your parents taught you to bow before your superiors? Who are you to dare to challenge me?

Redheads, in second-hand clothes. They must be Weasleys. Replied another Death Eater.

Interesting. This whale must be the famous Molly Weasley. Your brothers told me a lot about you before they died. It's time for you to join them.MollyMonologued Voldemort, pointing his wand at the old woman who, to the twins' relief, began to regain consciousness.

But the young boy placed himself between her and his wand and dared to threaten him:

It's me, your opponent.

The Death Eaters behind Voldemort let out a hearty laugh.

The joke is no longer funny, kid. Step aside and bow before me, and maybe I'll spare you out of respect for your courage.

Harry Dursley did not move.

Macnair. Take care of this idiot. Said Voldemort, starting to move forward without paying any more attention to him.

Macnair advanced in his direction without even taking out his wand, with a smile of anticipation. Harry then had flashes ofhis/hers/its/theirsaccomplishmentsin his original world. UnderThereignYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.Voldemort, Macnair quickly became Voldemort's first executionerThe one to whomhe confidedthe prisonersthe most resistant or thosewhat he wantedseebreak andCompletelysumisat his will

Pestis Incendium. Yelled Harry, when he was close enough.In a superhuman reflex, worthy of the elite fighters that the Death Eaters were,MacnairManaged to pull out his wand and hastily cast a shield spell, but he was swept away by the surge of demonic flames that escaped from Harry's wand. Harry contemplates with a cold and utterly remorseless gaze,Macnair being devoured by the flamesof a long silent agony. All of a sudden it was as if a bubble of silence had just been thrown around them.

Voldemort barely gave a glance at the disappearance of one of his most faithful Death Eaters before making the Fiendfyre disappear with a negligent wave of his wand and turning his attention back to Harry Dursley. Then all of a sudden his face froze, as if struck by an illumination:

So it is not the presence of the cloak that drew me here. Give me the Elder Wand and I will spare you and yours.

Tom, I thought I was clear yesterday: I will never collaborate with you. Go away. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to defeat you, but I am certainly strong enough to resist you until the Aurors and Dumbledore arrive. Harry attempted to bluff, realizing Voldemort's misunderstanding.

Harry Dursley let go of dark-Harry's hand.ThenVoldemort and he began to circle each other, forming a perfect circle under the perplexed gaze of the Death Eaters and the Weasleys who did not dare to intervene.

Interesting. So you met that pathetic being who claimed to be me. I would have so many questions to ask you before killing you. But you're right, my time is limited. Just tell me who you are.

It was at that moment that about twenty Aurors arrived. The ten Death Eaters escorting Voldemort immediately engaged in combat to protect their master.

Apparently,Your timeis even more limited than you thought. Harry taunted him.

Voldemort then raised his right hand and Harry noticed for the first time the black ring that adorned his ring finger as it began to glow with a bright green light. A hundred corpses converged from adjacent streets or collapsed houses and then attacked the Aurors from all directions. Before he was cut down by an incendio cast by one of the AurorsYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.Harry Dursley thought he recognized the member of the magical brigade who had ordered him to flee.

Where were we? Oh yes! You are going to tell me everything I want to know in the hope of surviving a few more minutes. WHO ARE YOU? And what do you know about the Deathly Hallows? Voldemort ordered in a cold voice.

Your double didn't tell you about me? I'm offended. By the way, where is he? Is he afraid to face me again?

My patience has its limits. Speak or die.

For an answer, Harry removed the bandage that covered his scar.

HARRY POTTER. Voldemort screamed in a rage that stopped all the fighting and made all the fighters turn towards them.

AVADA KEDAVRA. Then shouted Harry and Voldemort in perfect synchrony.

Two jets of green light shot out fromtwoWands. The two beams of light collided in mid-flight and, all of a sudden, Harry's wand began to vibrate as if it had been charged with an electric current. His hand was stuck to it. Even if he had wanted to, he would have been unable to let go.

A narrow beam of intense gold light now connected the two wands. Harry, astonished, followed the beam of light with his eyes and saw that Voldemort's wand was trembling and vibrating with the same intensity between his long, clenched fingers. Then, to his utter surprise, he felt his feet lift off the ground. Voldemort and he rose into the air at the same time, their wands still connected by this thread of golden, trembling light. They floated slowly above the avenue. The Death Eaters began to shout, asking Voldemort what they should do while the Aurors recovered from their shock and took advantage of this respite to get rid of the Inferi and evacuate the Weasleys.

The golden thread that connected Harry and Voldemort suddenly shattered. Their wands remained linked to each other, but thousands of other beams of light were projected into the air, drawing a multitude of intersecting arcs above their heads. Soon, Harry and Voldemort found themselves enclosed under a golden dome, resembling a vast luminous spider web, beyond which the Death Eaters tightened their circle, like jackals, their cries strangely muffled...

Do nothing! Cried Voldemort in a piercing voice.

Harry saw his red eyes widen in astonishment at this phenomenon. He saw him trying to break the thread of light that still connected the two magic wands, but Harry gripped his wand tighter and tighter, with both hands at once, and the golden thread remained intact.

Do nothing until I have given you the order! Voldemort shouted to his followers.

Then, a magnificent and supernatural sound rose into the air... It emanated from every thread of the luminous web vibrating around them. It was a sound that Harry recognized immediately, although he had only heard it once in his life... The song of the Phoenix...

For Harry, this song was one of hope... The most beautiful sound he had ever heard... He felt that the song resonated not only around him but within him... and that it connected him to his Dumbledore, as if a friend were speaking into his ear... Do not break the link.

"I know," replied Harry as if speaking to the music, "I know I must not break it..." But no sooner had he thought this than it became increasingly difficult for him to achieve it. His wand began to vibrate more strongly than ever... and the beam of light connecting him to Voldemort also transformed... It seemed as if large pearls of light were sliding in both directions.long thread of gold. Harry felt his wand quiver in his hands as the beads slowly moved in his direction... Gradually, the beads only slid in one direction, from Voldemort to him, and his wand began to tremble furiously...

As the nearest of the pearls of light moved towards him, he felt the wood of his wand become so hot that he feared it would catch fire. The closer the pearl got, the more the wand vibrated in his hands. He was certain it would not withstand its contact, that it would shatter in his fingers if the pearl ever touched it...

His gaze fixed, animated by a furious gleam, he concentrated all the strength of his mind to send the bead back to Voldemort, while the song of the Phoenix continued to resonate in his ears... Then, slowly, very slowly, the beads of light stopped in a quiver and then, just as slowly, began to slide the other way... now, it was Voldemort's wand that vibrated with incredible intensity... Voldemort, who seemed stunned, almost frightened, seeing one of the beads of light quivering a few centimeters from his wand...

Harry did not understand why he was acting this way, he did not know what it might lead to... but he concentrated like he had never concentrated before to force this bead to return into his enemy's wand... Always with the same slowness... it advanced little by little along the golden thread... trembled for a moment, then finally touched the wand...

Immediately, Voldemort's magic wand emitted screams of pain... A moment later — The Dark Lord's red eyes widened at this vision —, thick smoke rose from his wand. A head took shape... then a torso, arms… and finally the ghost in a magic brigade uniform appeared. Then cries of pain were heard and gradually other ghosts emerged from Voldemort's wand and more ghosts.

Harry felt such astonishment that he might have dropped his wand, but instinctively, his hands gripped it more tightly than ever and the golden thread remained intact while the ghosts began to address him.

Hang in there, kid. Dumbledore and the Order are on their way, he said.

His voice was distant, like echoed. Harry looked at Voldemort... His wide-open red eyes expressed astonishment... He seemed as stunned as Harry himself...

Don't let go, especially not! she exclaimed.

Don't let him defeat you! Don't give up!

Encouraged by the increasingly numerous ghosts of wizards and even some goblins that Voldemort had killed during this attack on Diagon Alley.

Harry then heard the faint cries of fear from the Death Eaters who were circling the golden dome before suddenly Disapparating. He sighed with relief. He couldn't have held his wand much longer. He raised it abruptly, with all his strength, and the golden thread broke. The dome of light vanished immediately, the song of the Phoenix stopped—but the ghostly figures of Voldemort's victims were still present and surrounded their murderer, but were unable to prevent him from following his Death Eaters in his escape.

Harry then found himself alone, surrounded by about fifty wizards, some in civilian clothes, others in auror uniforms, who still had their wands raised.in his direction, visibly waiting for someone to recover sufficiently from their astonishment to take the initiative again.

It was then that an old man with a white beard and purple robes, radiating power, stepped forward. One of the aurors called out to him:

Dumbledore, I swear to you, it was you-know-who in person.

I believe you Dawlish.

Then he turned to Harry and adopted an expression that seemed falsely benevolent to Harry Dursley and said:

Well, Harry. I believe you've had a hectic day. How about telling me about it over a nice cup of hot chocolate? Lower your wand. You are safe now.

He tried to convince himself that his bad impression was perhaps due to excessive mistrust. After all, nothing in the director's attitude seemed threatening or distinguished him from the wise old man he knew. And he probably had an excellent reason to justify having helped himself from his safe. Well, Dark-Harry's safe. And even so, he couldn't be horrible enough to send Dark-Harry back to the Dursleys once he told him how he was treated. But above all, it would have been so pleasant to rely on him like before.

However, the invisible hand that had immediately shaken his once the fight was over reminded him that he could not indulge in such risks.

Voldemort is searching for the relics and it won't be long before he understands that you possess the wand. You are his next target. He said to the headmaster while discreetly casting a permanent sticking charm on Dark-Harry's hand, to ensure he wouldn't let go. Then, praying it would work, he bent his knees and cast the spell that Voldemort used almost daily to move around.

In front of the astonished gazes of all the wizards present, he flew away. Some cast spells to try to stop him, but he was already too high in the sky. Then he accelerated violently and disappeared. They tried to pursue him on broomsticks, but all that remained in the sky was the Dark Mark illuminating the ruins of Diagon Alley with its sinister green light.