Early the next morning, on the second floor of Dumbledore's old house in Godric's Hollow, Jerry stood silently by the window with a frown, clutching Dumbledore's reply.
A gentle breeze brushed through his short black hair, while his blood-red eyes studied every word on the page.
Perhaps Dumbledore had sensed the resentment hidden in Jerry's letter. His reply contained many reassuring words intended to ease Jerry's doubts. But on the crucial question of the Mysterious Key's origins, Dumbledore had left only a single sentence: "No one else needs to tell you the truth. The key will guide you to the answers and open the door to the real world!"
As Jerry read that final sentence, irritation and anger suddenly welled up inside him, driving him to crush the letter into a ball.
"Hmph! I refuse to believe I can't uncover the truth on my own!" Jerry snorted, staring at the wad of paper clenched in his hand as he silently swore to himself. Under his scarlet, shadowed gaze, fierce blue-violet Fiendfyre instantly ignited the paper in his palm. The powerful flames left not even a trace of ash!
Tom, in the birdcage nearby, also noticed the change in his master's mood. Terrified, he plunged headfirst into the pile of nuts in his food bowl, not daring to make the slightest sound!
Knockturn Alley bordered Diagon Alley. A place where all sorts mingled, it was London's other magical shopping district. Unlike Diagon Alley, it was home to many shops dealing in Dark Magic.
Jerry dressed to fit in, wearing a cloak and a strange white mask. Although his thirteenth birthday was still a few months away, he had long since passed five foot three and was approaching five foot seven. Some of these adult Dark Wizards might not even be