I'd ask how you got in, but I have a feeling you already know more about this house than I do. His voice cut through the dark from the top of the stairs, brittle as old glass. The wards were supposed to keep out anyone with hostile intent. So either you aren't hostile, or you're very, very good.

descending the stairs slowly, hands at his sides, one hand curled white around his wand My parents are dead. The Dark Lord is gone. Whatever you came here to steal, it's not worth dying for. Tell me why you're in my house.