Dewey looked at the newspaper, his expression complicated.
"1993."
He stood in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection.
The man in the mirror was so thin he looked like a skeleton wearing a mouse-gray trench coat.
Long-term malnutrition and lack of sunlight had left his skin as pale as a Vampire's, but without any luster. His face was so gaunt it looked frightening.
He reached out tentatively, touched his rough skin, then began to shave.
"Did I really used to look like this?"
Dewey muttered to himself.
The man who owned this house wasn't as tall as he was.
But when Dewey put on the man's trench coat, it hung loosely on him, making him look like an empty frame.
He had been deprived of his freedom for so long.
At the thought, he bared his teeth and gave a chilling grin.
He turned and went into the kitchen.
Barefoot, Dewey stood in the kitchen and found some honey and sugar. He boiled water and dropped a tea bag into a cup.
One spoonful of honey, two spoonfuls, three, half a cup of honey.
Then he added sugar!
Finally, he poured in the boiling water.
The fragrant aroma of black tea wafted through the air. Dewey savored the scent.
"Sweetness."
He looked out the window at the rising sun, then turned on the television and started making breakfast.
He was currently in Surrey, in southeastern England, not far from London.
It was a middle-class neighborhood. With the summer holidays underway, the homeowners had taken their children to London for a vacation, leaving the whole house empty.
Lettuce, tomato, onion, and a fried egg—a simple sandwich that he stuffed into his mouth. There was no sauce, but it still tasted delicious.
"The taste of freedom."
He took a sip of tea sweet enough to make his teeth ache and finally felt alive again.
The news was on television. Just as Dewey had finished eating and was about to doze off, two wanted posters appeared side by side on the screen.
Sirius Black's defiant eyes, his scruffy beard and messy hair, appeared on the television.
Beside him was Dewey, gaunt and grim.
The presenter said they were two extremely dangerous murderers who were armed with guns. Anyone who spotted them was asked to call the authorities.
Dewey stared at the wanted posters, his drowsiness gone.
He figured the call would bring the Ministry of Magic's Aurors.
"Sirius escaped too? That was quick."
He wasn't surprised that Sirius had escaped.
He knew it was the summer of 1993, so he knew Sirius would break out.
Sirius's escape was due around this time.
After Fudge's inspection of Azkaban, Sirius escaped.
Compared with Dewey hitching a ride on Fudge's coattails, Sirius had turned into a Grim and swum all the way here. It had been much more difficult.
Their reasons for escaping were different, too.
Sirius had done it for his godson's safety; Dewey had done it for freedom.
More importantly, Dewey had left Azkaban alone, without even any money in Gringotts. Now he couldn't even afford to buy clothes.
Without a single Galleon or even a penny, he was utterly and unapologetically broke.
Sirius, on the other hand, was the last heir of the Black Family. He could afford to buy the finest broomstick in the Wizarding World, the Firebolt, outright.
But they were both facing the same thing.
Pursuers!
It seemed they were wanted by both the Wizarding World and the Muggles. Their lives were hanging by a thread.
Dewey sat up and carefully considered what to do next.
Escaping was an ongoing endeavor.
If he wanted to stay free, he would have to keep fighting the Ministry of Magic and grow stronger. Only when his magic reached a certain level could he ignore the Ministry's threats.
For now, he had nowhere to go.
The Death Eaters couldn't be trusted, Voldemort couldn't be trusted, and the White Wizard was no more trustworthy.
The Death Eaters still at large were either traitors, spies, or fence-sitters.
They wouldn't help Dewey.
And he couldn't let either Dark Lord get near him.
Dumbledore and Voldemort were the two greatest Legilimens of the age.
Neither of them would miss a single thought of his unless he mastered Occlumency to an extraordinary degree, like Snape.
The problem was that Severus Snape had done so because he was one of Voldemort's pawns planted beside Dumbledore. Voldemort knew how capable his old headmaster was and allowed his subordinate to take those precautions.
Snape was important to Voldemort, who was also remarkably tolerant of those in his service.
Even when Voldemort knew Snape was lying at times, he didn't care.
He needed Snape.
But he didn't need Dewey.
The White Wizard was no different. Dewey didn't want anyone rummaging around inside his mind, flipping through his memories like a book.
"Then where should I go?"
Dewey watched an owl flap past outside and stared blankly for a moment. Even now, a fire still burned inside him.
Yesterday, he had slept on the cold floor.
It was hard, but he had still managed to sleep.
It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to sleep in a bed.
He had simply grown unaccustomed to them.
He had slept on the cold ground for eleven years, and arthritis hurt so badly he could barely bend his joints.
Curled up on the floor like a baby, he had suffered countless nightmares, sweat soaking through his back.
Yet when he woke, he didn't feel empty.
Because he knew what he had to do.
He would throw the Ministry of Magic's bunch of useless fools into Azkaban.
Take out the Death Eater leadership.
And if he could, take out the Dark Lord too.
Revenge was an eternal flame burning in his heart, impossible to extinguish.
"I need more Cards, more magic."
Dewey carefully considered his next move.
He needed to find the right balance. He had to attack Wizards without attracting too many of them to hunt him down.
If he went looking for Wizards, there were plenty at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Inverted Alley, the Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeade, St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and Nurmengard. But he wasn't Voldemort. If he went to any of those places, people would beat him to death or catch him and let a Dementor give him a nice, intimate kiss!
So the safest place was actually...
Dewey stood up and began to get ready.
The safest place was 4 Privet Drive.
Before long, Harry Potter would inflate his horrid Aunt Marge like a balloon and run away from home.
A few minutes after that, two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad would go to 4 Privet Drive to deal with the mess Harry Potter had left behind.
"Yes, yes, two Ministry of Magic employees. They aren't Hit Wizards or Aurors, and they aren't good at fighting.
"More importantly, they're proper Wizards.
"They have two wands and information about their colleagues."
Dewey quickly settled on a plan. He rummaged through the house, found a pair of leather shoes that didn't quite fit, and awkwardly pulled on some clothes and trousers. Then he Apparated away.
"Thank you for your generosity."
Before leaving, he found a piece of paper and wrote a somewhat plaintive note.
"Once I succeed, I'll repay you. This is an IOU."
Dewey's Apparition had a limitation: range.
Some powerful Wizards, like Voldemort, could Apparate over enormous distances. Dewey couldn't. He couldn't go straight to Privet Drive; he would have to Apparate there slowly, making several jumps.
"I hope I'm not too late."
Dewey said to himself.
Fortunately, he arrived in time. When he got there, poor Harry Potter hadn't yet been tormented by his aunt. He was in the attic room, racking his brains over his homework.
Dewey didn't go near Privet Drive. The area was under close watch, and if one of the Squibs stationed there saw him, Dumbledore would teach him a lesson.
Dewey didn't think he was a match for Dumbledore right now.
Night fell. He picked up some stones and precisely smashed the streetlights on Privet Drive and the neighboring streets, plunging the area into darkness.
Angry curses rang out around him, but they didn't stop Dewey. Hidden in the darkness, he wreaked havoc without a care.
After he had knocked out all the streetlights and the area had fallen dark,
"What are you doing here?"
In the night, a pair of bright eyes fixed on Dewey.
A large black dog emerged from the bushes and transformed into the tall figure of Sirius Black.
Sirius stared at Dewey, his gaze full of menace.
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