Dyna lingered outside for a full half hour. Technically, he could have barged in on Donna Avery and Gilderoy Lockhart and killed her right then and there. But that would have blown his cover—the Trace, after all, would link him back to Hogwarts. He wasn't some nosy pervert; bats rely on sound more than sight, so he faced away from the room. Only when every noise inside dropped—the even sound of Donna's breathing—did he re-enter. With the lights off and her tucked into bed, the house was quiet.
He shrank into an ant and slipped through a crack in the window frame. Once inside, he returned to human form and stared down at Donna's sleeping face. A green glow sparked at his fingertips.
… …
The memories rushed in: Anna Avery's voice, trembling with fear:
"Today, either you or your son will take Gav Avery's place!"
"You have to agree whether you like it or not! If you don't, I'll kill your son!"
Donna had laughed at Anna's desperation. Sobbing, Anna had begged for mercy. She'd agreed to manage a branch—anything—just to save her child. Dyna remembered the shame on her face and Donna's cold, triumphant smile.
When Anna refused, Donna struck with a killing curse, and Dyna had acted. In rage, he stunned his mother from behind, snapped, "Let my mother go! I'll take Gav's place! And you owe us enough Galleons for her doctor!"
… …
Regaining awareness, he realized the green at his fingertips had intensified—his hatred burning bright. He could have killed Donna then. It wouldn't have required much. But that was too petty. His aim was to destroy the Avery family from the inside out.
He tucked the tapestry into his necklace and eyed the walls, plastered with posters of Gilderoy Lockhart—the celebrated fraud coming to teach at Hogwarts next year. Good. If he played this right, Lockhart would land in Azkaban and Donna might impulse into jail for him—perhaps even volunteer, or under an Imperius Curse.
If she loved him enough, or he forced her. Every part of her life would be stripped away: love, freedom, family.
A slow grin crept across Dyna's face. His revenge plan was taking shape. First, the Ashwinder Party. Then, confirmation of Darko Dentis's identity… He needed information—clues.
"Who are you?" A soft voice broke his thoughts. Donna's sleep had been shallow.
He twisted his face. He'd taken on John Flint's visage—cloudy eyes, dry with blood, corpse-white skin, horror incarnate.
Dyna was no stranger to horror tropes—but this worked. Donna screamed.
"Stupefy!" With a flick, Dyna stopped her in her tracks, then slipped through the Door of Spandim back to Hogwarts.
Her screams would alert the Avery household. Perfect. By the time they sent Aurors or the Improper Use of Magic Office got involved, Dyna would be gone. Even if Donna accused him, she'd look insane. Flint's "revenge" would frame her; no one would suspect a kid.
… …
By morning he woke well-rested. It was already ten o'clock. Skipping breakfast, he opted to just grab lunch later. In the afternoon, he planned a trip to Knockturn Alley, then 26½ Baker Street.
In the Great Hall, Harry and Ron were already at the Gryffindor table. Only three of them sat together before the clatter of breakfast ended. Dyna slid in across from them.
"Hey, Dyna!"
"Hey, Harry."
Ron grunted, and Harry asked, "What're you doing this afternoon? Fancy a game of wizard's chess? I've been tearing Ron apart—why not finish the job?"
Ron scowled, but said nothing.
Dyna smiled. "Actually, I need to finish my library books. No chess this time."
Ron snorted under his breath about "another bookworm," clearly thinking of Hermione.
"Ron!" Harry elbowed him. Ron slipped and grumbled.
"Well, alright—20 points to Gryffindor for the bookworm."
Dyna chuckled. "Thanks—I do plan to bring in enough points for the second half of the semester."
Ron blushed, recalling Dyna's point-earning streak—over fifty this year compared to Ron's paltry deductions.
Harry smiled and lightly nudged Ron again.
Dyna glanced at Harry. After their visit to the Mirror of Erised two nights ago, he sensed Harry drawing closer again. He dared not distance himself—not when Dumbledore was watching carefully.
He sighed. It was time to commit fully.
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