All right… in case it wasn't clear the first time… there is S.L.A.S.H. in this story. As in, wand-on-wand, boy on boy. Just so there's an understanding there.
CAUTION: Coarse language, violence, major spoilers for "Half Blood Prince".
II:LAYING A NEW FOUNDATION
Or, the "M" word and what it means for the Dursleys
As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Harry wasted no time exiting the vehicle, and retrieving his trunk from the boot.
"Now you listen here, boy," Vernon began, "There will be no—"
"What, funny business? I am going to store my trunk in my room, and then you, your wife, your son, and I will be having a conversation," said Harry, his voice cold and even. Vernon began to sputter at the indignation, but one look at the green ice chips that were Harry's eyes made him think otherwise. He huffed, then stormed into the house.
Once Harry had stored his school trunk in his room, he made sure his wand was once again stuffed in the waistband of his pants, then trekked back down the stairs to the lounge, where, surprisingly, the Dursleys had complied, and were waiting.
"I need you all to listen to me, and listen carefully," said Harry, gesturing with his hand at the coffee table, where a pitcher of iced tea appeared, along with four glasses, causing his relatives to whimper. "You'll notice I didn't use my wand to conjure up this lovely service—do feel free to have some, by the way—" Harry gestured to the wand, still stuck in the waistband of his pants.
"You… you can't use magic out of school!" Vernon sputtered, "They'll—"
"What, expel me? No, I think not," said Harry, his voice rather light, "See, I'm needed. Voldemort almost came back… thanks to me, he didn't get his body back… but next time we won't be so lucky, and it'll be up to me, and me only to defeat him. So I'll make this very clear. I have things to do. I will stay out of your way, and you'll stay out of mine. It's that simple. If you want me to take care of the gardens and so on, fine. But it'll be done MY way. Just imagine, aunt Petunia, you could have the best garden in the neighbourhood, if you'll let me use dragon dung… makes the plants grow like crazy."
"You'll NOT be using—"
"Oh, Vernon… perhaps if we just… very well, boy, I'll leave you… just don't let me SEE you actually doing any of your freakish things," said Petunia, still obviously uncomfortable with the idea.
"You do know about the wards on the house, right? All of you?"
"W-wards?" Dudley squeaked.
"Yes. Very powerful protections wrought by ancient magic. Look, if I fail, our world will be fucked over three ways from Sunday. Do you really want that?"
"What—how dare—what do you…" Vernon sputtered, the vein on his forehead pumping a furious purple. Petunia was equally appalled by Harry's choice of words.
"Dudley… you and your friends will do well to keep away from me from here on out… I won't put up with your dragon shit any more. This is your one warning." Harry poured himself a glass of iced tea, and took a swig. "I don't like making a bunch of demands and ultimatums, but it seems that's the only thing you understand. All I ask for is to be left alone, and perhaps treated civilly. Is that really too much to ask?" He downed the glass, and left the room.
Climbing the stairs and re-entering his room, he then opened Hedwig's cage, and let her out. "Hey, girl. Things are gonna be different this summer." The owl looked up at him, blinking her yellow eyes. "I'm not the boy they all expect me to be any more. It's time I made some of my own decisions." The owl blinked again, as if in understanding.
That evening, as he lay on his bed, having adjusted the room to better fit a growing wizard, he finally allowed his mind to wander back to the conversation he had had with Dumbledore the day before.
It was immediately following the leaving feast, when the headmaster had pulled Harry aside, inviting him up to the office for their chat.
"Harry, you have changed much this past year," said Dumbledore, as they seated themselves: Dumbledore behind his desk, Harry seated in a comfortable chair before it.
"I almost lost Cedric," said Harry, quietly.
"Yes, but you did not, Harry. I trust you two have made plans for the summer?"
"He's planning to visit me a few days after we get back," said Harry, "It definitely gives me something to look forward to at my relatives' place." He smiled easily, realizing once again, things had changed dramatically.
"Indeed, Harry," said Dumbledore, as they made eye contact. Harry had been expecting this, and carefully placed chosen memories up front for Dumbledore to see, namely some of the events in the graveyard, mixed with some uncomfortable memories of his life with the Dursleys. After a few moments, he felt Dumbledore withdraw.
"Harry, I know life with your relatives has been less than enjoyable, but you must understand, it is the only place where you will truly be safe."
"And what happens when I come of age, sir? Surely whatever protections you have will fail…"
"How did you come to know that, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, and Harry once again felt the icy fingers of the headmaster's magic trying to see into his mind. More memories of his life with the Dursleys, this time of Dudley and his gang, enjoying their favourite pastime: Harry hunting. The prickly feeling quickly left.
"I dunno, I figured, there HAS to be some reason you insist on me staying there, right?"
"Indeed, Harry, you are correct," said Dumbledore, taking a lemon drop from the dish on the corner of his desk. "Lemon Drop?"
"No thank you," Harry declined, then continued, "Sir, what's so special about the protections at my relatives?"
"It has everything to do with the scar on your forehead. Remember what happened to professor Quirrell when you touched him?" Harry nodded. "It is all about the powerful protection which flows through your blood Harry. Your mother's love. As long as you call your aunt's house your home—"
"But sir, I've never really considered it such. They only see me as a freak!"
"I know, dear boy, how I know. I do wish there was a better solution, but as long as Voldemort remains a threat, it is our only choice."
"But… how was he able to survive?"
"Indeed, that is truly the question now, isn't it?" Dumbledore reached into his desk, and pulled out the destroyed diary that belonged to Tom Riddle. "This may be our clue, and if it is anything like I suspect, we are truly in for a difficult fight."
"Sir, WHY?" Harry almost shouted, but it came out sharply. "Why is Voldemort trying to kill me?"
"Harry, you have to understand. I wished you to have a chance at some sort of childhood before you faced your destiny." Harry snorted at that comment. "And my childhood has been roses. Right."
"Harry, if there had been any other way, I would have done it. You must realize that," said Dumbledore. Of course, he was right, Harry gave him that much. "You have seen my pensieve, yes?" Harry nodded. Dumbledore rose, and pulled the pensieve out of the cabinet, and after placing it on the desk, collected a small vial from a large carousel containing what looked like thousands of little bottles. Each one of them contained a memory, or a stream of them.
As Dumbledore poured the contents of the vial into the pensieve, Harry stuck his finger in the silvery liquid, already fully aware of what he was about to see: a younger Sybill Trelawney speaking the dreaded prophecy which rested so heavily on his shoulders, all over again… '…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…'
Harry sat back in the chair, appearing to mull over what he had just heard. After a few moments, he let out a sigh, then declared, "I guess it shouldn't surprise me… I mean, he's come after me three times—err, make that four times already."
"Indeed, Harry."
"So why haven't you been preparing me, getting me ready? I would have rather been put into extra classes, training, you know, instead of dancing around the garden, with useless visions of a childhood I will never have. I'm going on fifteen years old, and what do I have to show for it? Perhaps next time we meet, I won't be so lucky."
"Harry, you lack faith in yourself," Dumbledore responded, "You have shown far more courage than I could have imagined. No, I think you will do more than admirably when the two of you next meet."
"I guess."
"However, your point is received. I will see about setting up some extra lessons, perhaps over the summer, but more than likely starting in September." Dumbledore paused for a few moments. "Harry, there is something that has held me curious since the third task. How is it you were aware of Barty Crouch's deception?"
"I saw it… through my scar… in the graveyard," answered Harry, "He had shown Voldemort his disguise. Sir, why didn't you know? I mean, you've known each other a long time, right?"
"Do forgive me, Harry, I am an old man, at times prone to mistakes," answered Dumbledore.
Harry bowed his head. It was hard to stay angry at the headmaster. The first time around, it had been he who had done his best to clear Harry's name, and get his education reinstated. He had gone to great lengths to ensure Harry still received an education. Glamour charms had been very handy in allowing him to stay in the castle at times, one of the many charms the headmaster taught him.
Yet, it had all ended tragically at the end of what would have been his sixth year. They had gone after a Horcrux Voldemort had hidden in a cave, using a most disturbing potion. Dumbledore had consumed all of it, allowing Harry to collect said Horcrux, but it had taken its toll. Returning to the castle, they were ambushed, and the overgrown bat of a potions master, with the assistance of Draco Malfoy, proved his true allegiance—it was only much later when Harry learned of the true motivations, and the fact Snape was in fact truly working on Dumbledore's instructions.
"A sickle for your thoughts, Harry?"
"Just thinking, is all. Thank you for showing me the memory, at least now I know the WHY. I guess in a way I feel relieved. Sir, like I said last time we met here, I just want people to be honest with me. I do have a right to that, do I not?"
"Indeed you do, Harry. You know, I am truly amazed at your maturity. You have handled this very well."
"I have to. If it's truly me or him… being childish about it won't get us anywhere." The elder wizard inclined his head, eyes once again twinkling madly. "Indeed, you are so right, Harry." A happy trill sounded, and Harry looked up to see Fawkes looking at him, perhaps agreeing with him? Wouldn't surprise him. "Hello Fawkes." He thought for a moment, then said, "Sir, if I need to send you a letter, may I call on Fawkes?"
"Of course. It might be wise to keep your correspondence to a minimum as it is, considering the uncertainty of events. Should you need a bit of extra company, feel free to call on him also."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you sir."
"You have forged a strong bond with Fawkes, a most unusual feat, Harry. Phoenixes do not usually form more than one bond at a time…"
Harry smirked to himself as the memory faded. Yes, Fawkes might be a very handy ally over the summer, as there were several things that would need attending to, and it would never do for some people to know about that. He didn't like the idea of deceiving the headmaster, yet, at the same time, there were things that, for the time being, Dumbledore could NOT know. He quickly sorted through the day's memories, closed his eyes, and at last allowed sleep to take him.
The following morning, he was woken by his aunt's shrill call. "Boy!? You up?"
"I'll be down in a minute, aunt Petunia," Harry answered sleepily. He summoned a pepper-up potion, downed it, slipped on a loose tee shirt and a pair of Dudley's cast-off jeans, and finally unlocked the door. Hedwig was gone, probably still out hunting.
"Good morning, aunt Petunia," said Harry. He would try and be civil, after all, right? His aunt scowled at him, and gestured to a plate sitting on the island. Some cold toast, a couple slices of bacon, and an egg.
"Thank you," said Harry, waving a hand over the plate. Steam instantly started rising off the now heated breakfast, which he carried to the table and took a seat. "I'll be out of the house most of the day. Wizard business and all," he added, seeing his aunt about to question. It had exactly the effect he wanted, as she closed her mouth and did not ask.
"I want you to… to continue tending the garden, boy," Petunia said. It was half way between asking and demanding. Harry only nodded, however, saying, "I'll be sure to pick up some items today that will do some amazing things for the garden. The neighbours will be jealous in a couple of weeks. One of my year mates loves herbology—err, the Wizarding equivalent of Horticulture. I'd ask him to come over, but…"
"As long as it's while Vernon's not home," said Petunia. Harry nodded. "I'll see if he's available sometime next week. Maybe get his ideas on what you might need… yeah, I'll have him help me with the garden supplies." Petunia nodded at that, and they fell silent.
"Why are you being so nice?" Petunia finally asked, still standing at the island counter, watching as he ate.
"Because you are blood, right? I mean, you haven't treated me well, but… if it wasn't for you… the world as we know it would be in big trouble. Voldemort hates Muggles. He'll kill as many as he can, if he ever gets the power he wants. And you'd be at the top of his list." Petunia seemed to become very pale for a moment, as the words sunk in. "I promise you… I will protect your family. If you will let me… I mean, you have done that much for me."
Petunia once again stared open-mouthed at her sister's son. This boy—or—young man was most definitely not a freak, she was beginning to see that now. Even after the way she and her family had treated him, he was still willing to do what was right. "Th-thank you, b-Harry." Harry only inclined his head, as he polished off the remainder of his breakfast.
"you're welcome. Now if you guys want me to cook breakfast tomorrow... let me know if there's stuff needed at the store. I'll go out later on, once I'm back from…"
"Diagon Alley," Petunia guessed.
"Yeah. I'll be back sometime this afternoon. In a way it's good you woke me up." Petunia inclined her head, and Harry gestured with his hand, banishing the plate to the sink. He then stepped out the back door into the back garden. 'Now… let's see if I remember how to do this…'
If it had been Diagon Alley, the sudden appearance of a trail of black smoke in the sky would have been truly frightening. Yet, this was Knockturn Alley, a place where that kind of thing might be expected. The black shape took a more solid form on the steps of Borgin & Burkes, a store known in darker circles to carry things the Ministry would most definitely not approve of.
Harry grinned a sinister grin, and stepped inside of said shop. He wasted no time locating the object of his visit that morning: a large cabinet that still stood against one wall. The same cabinet he had hidden in the summer before his second year, avoiding the Malfoys. Taking it wouldn't be that much of a problem.
"May I help you?" Harry recognized the oily-haired stooping man at once to be that of Mr. Borgin. He had expected to run into one of the shop owners at least.
"Yes, you just might," said Harry, thrusting a hand forward, "STUPEFY!" The shop keeper fell heavily to the floor, his head narrowly missing the edge of the counter by inches. He then knelt down beside the man, thinking carefully of the last few minutes, drawing his wand—the Ministry could not track who was casting magic in Diagon Alley, nor Knockturn Alley for that matter. "Obliviate." He then pointed his wand at the cabinet in question, shrinking it down to fit in his pocket. 'There. At least one disaster that can be averted,' Harry thought, then disapparated with a soft POP.
His next destination was Gringotts. He would need some money for his next destination, preferably a bit of wizard and Muggle currency. Once inside, he stepped up to the first open wicket. "I need to visit my vault, please," he said, sliding his key across the counter.
"Very well. Follow me, please," the goblin behind the wicket sneered, hopping down off the step stool he was standing on to see over the counter.
The trip down to his school vault was every bit as crazy as he remembered it, but having seen things far more insane in many ways, he didn't really mind it too much. "Vault six-eighty-seven," announced the goblin, "Key please." Harry quickly handed the goblin his key, and the door was unlocked. Harry wasted no time collecting a sack full of galleons. He noted the pile was still almost as large as it had been the first time he had seen it.
"Mr. Potter, you are aware of your inheritance, of course," the goblin spoke.
"I'll get it when I'm seventeen."
"Now we both know, Mr. Potter, you are older than seventeen."
"Excuse me?"
"When it comes to issues of inheritance, we are very thorough," the goblin sneered, "We do take our business here very seriously. Once you are finished here, you will be meeting with Griphook."
"Of course, I remember him." Harry quickly finished collecting the coins he thought he would need, then returned to the cart.
As expected, Griphook was waiting for them when the cart returned to the surface. Harry was led into one of the back rooms.
"I won't take much of your time, Mr. Potter. We only need your signature on a few documents." Harry only nodded, and signed where indicated.
"Wait a minute. If you guys can detect my real age… can't the ministry as well? I really don't want this to get out… that I'm really twenty-six… bloody hell I still don't know what happened."
"I don't know of their procedures as far as under aged witches and wizards are concerned, Mr. Potter. I would guess, it's quite likely they will notice something when the detection charms dissolve from your residence."
"Great. I'd really hoped I would at least get the summer before certain people knew about it." He finished signing the papers, which at once folded themselves up and vanished. Harry already understood what had happened: the documents were now safely filed away appropriately with record-keeping.
"Your key will now work in your family vault, number seven oh two," Griphook explained, "If you wish, I can take you down."
"No, not today. I've got other things to take care of," said Harry.
"Very well, then, our business is done here."
"May your vaults overflow with Galleons," said Harry. Griphook was taken aback for a moment at the comment, but then nodded, giving a toothy grin. Yes, Harry Potter was definitely a strange wizard.
Harry's next stop was a shop that specialized in wizard travelling apparatus. The shop sold just about everything the travelling wizard or witch would need to keep the comforts of home when away from home. The first time around, he had managed to corner Mad-Eye Moody and ask him where he had procured his trunk. The shop owner had been more than cooperative, setting Harry up with a three-compartment trunk, whose third compartment was in fact a room. Of course, it hadn't stayed that way, once Harry and Hermione started in on it.
This time around would be no different, as he tracked down the shop proprietor, and explained what he needed.
"Yes, that's certainly a bit of an order, but nothing I can't handle," said the shop keeper, "If it's all right, we can take a floor model, and make the customizations. It should only take me a few hours. How about three o'clock this afternoon?"
"That would be great. The outside appearance isn't all that important, just as long as it works. In the meantime, I've got other things to take care of anyway, so I'll come back and settle at three, then." Harry nodded to the shop keeper, then stepped back out into the alley, this time taking the time to look around.
Indeed, the alley had a very different feel to it than it had the last time he had seen it. Here, people were still moving around freely, going out their business without a worry. All the shops were open, no glaring ministry posters—other than a few with pictures of his godfather on them—that too would change, he KNEW it.
After having a bite for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry then stopped at Magical Menagerie, where he picked up some owl treats for Hedwig. There was no sense in picking anything else up, although, as he thought… no, he DID need more parchment… and in fact, he needed a few sheets of oversized parchment for another little project. If he had his way, no one would get near the Dursleys without him knowing. A foe glass, and a sneakoscope would come in handy as well.
That got him thinking on several other issues. The Horcruxes. The thing was, did he dare touch any of them with Voldemort still without a body? Yet, if he could eliminate them all BEFORE he reclaimed a body, there would be no final confrontation whatsoever. With that decision firmly made, he once again popped away.
He landed in the shrieking shack, and gesturing with his hand, he disillusioned himself. It would not be a good idea for him to be seen in Hogsmeade the day after having left for London. He made his way quickly to Honeydukes, slipped into the cellar, and down the trap door into the tunnel which led to the secret entrance on the third floor at Hogwarts.
Once in the school, he was forced to hide in the shadows, as voices could be heard coming toward him. Luckily, he had been able to hide his magical signature—he felt the wards wash over him, probing his identity—so more than likely, they would be looking for an intruder. This was old hat to Harry, he had snuck into Hogwarts several times AFTER it fell under control of the Death Eaters. Snape had actually done well, protecting the students from the worst of the lot, but it was at most times most unpleasant to be a student at Hogwarts.
The voices were getting closer, and Harry could now make them out.
"…telling you, Albus, the brat is a powerful Occlumens. I could not budge an inch on his defences. He forced me to see only what he chose me to see." 'Of course,' Harry grinned, ducked away in the shadows, 'Snape,' he thought. No, it wouldn't take long for him to know the secret. Now if only Harry could get him to stop acting like a greasy git toward him.
"Indeed, Severus, I come to a similar conclusion. He is more talented than you give him credit for. I do have to wonder what Lily might say, if she were able to see how you treat her son?"
"Do not attempt such manipulations, headmaster," said Snape, coldly. Harry didn't have to see him to know he had his patented sneer firmly in place. There was a pause, and Snape continued, "I may have agreed to protect her son, but it does not mean I have to like him."
"Your animosity does neither of you any good. Must you continue to blame the son for the faults of the father?"
"Headmaster, you know as well as I do, should I go soft on Potter, word would take little time to reach the Dark Lord's followers, whether the Dark Lord is truly still alive or not. My use as a spy would be at an end." 'Of course, he speaks the truth,' Harry thought. Snape was absolutely crucial to the efforts of the light. 'I wonder if he could use some basilisk parts for potion ingredients…'
Once Dumbledore and Snape vanished around a corner, Harry stepped out from his hiding place. Sure, he was still disillusioned, but the two wizards were most certainly not ordinary. He let out a sigh, then made off for the seventh floor and his final destination: the Room of Requirement.
"I need the room of hidden things… I need the room of hidden things… I need the room of hidden things…" he spoke, pacing back and forth three times at the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy: a rather amusing painting of a wizard attempting to teach some trolls to dance the ballet.
Wasting no time as soon as the door appeared, he was in the incredible room, which then resembled an indoor junk pile. If you could dream it, it was likely somewhere in that room. He made a bee line for a spot toward the back of the room, where there lay another object he wished to collect: the mate to the vanishing cabinet that lay in his pocket. No, Death Eaters would not be sneaking into the school THAT WAY this time around.
He then turned his attention to the second target of his visit: Rowena Revenclaw's Diadem, which rested on the bust of an unknown wizard. Picking up a cloth on a nearby table, he accidentally knocked a strange-looking gadget to the floor, which rolled around for a moment, clattering to a stop. Shrugging, he reached down to pick it up, and was given a shock—literally, as a yellow arc of magic jumped between Harry and the device, causing him to let out a yelp. "Merlin's balls!"
He took a deep breath, calming his rattled nerves, and once again picked up the cloth, this time a little more carefully, lest he knock over something ELSE that might bite. Perhaps next time, a mild shock would be the least of his worries. He draped the cloth over the diadem, then gingerly picked it up. His experience dealing with a cursed necklace in his sixth year the first time around had taught him well about dealing with cursed objects. This was one of the worst that could be created.
Harry worked quickly, wrapping the diadem in the cloth, then shrinking it down to fit in his pocket. His job finished, he made his way from the room, retraced his steps back to the third floor, and lastly, back through the passage to Honeydukes. Unseen by the boy-who-lived, the strange object he had encountered in the Room of Requirement glowed a light blue colour, and vanished.
It was just after three o'clock when Harry again visited the Wizarding travel store.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. I'm just finishing up now," said the shop owner, indicating the large trunk which rested on the floor. The wood was a dark colour, with brass hardware on the corners. The latch and lock were also of brass.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Given the extra customizations, eight hundred galleons all totalled."
"Great." Harry fished into his sack of coins, and began counting out coins. True, it was an expensive purchase, but it would be worth it in the end. It took him several minutes to pull out the correct total, and even longer for the shop keeper to count it.
"very well then, allow me to explain its basic functions," said the shop keeper, gesturing to the now completed trunk. "Three compartments, as you requested. They are accessed depending on which latch you open." He gestured to the first latch. "This one, as well as the second, open to typical trunk compartments, both expanded substantially." He opened the first latch, allowing Harry to look inside.
"Great, excellent."
"The third one, as you requested, opens to reveal a ladder. I've given you an eight by fourteen room to furnish as you see fit." He closed the lid, then opened the third latch, allowing Harry to inspect it.
"I wasn't sure of the security charms you wanted on it, so there was nothing added." Harry only waved his hand at the comment, saying, "No worry, I have friends who can do that."
"Then we are settled. Thank you for your business, Mr. Potter." Harry inclined his head, picked up the trunk—which had been charmed to be feather light—and stepped out into the street. He ducked into an alcove, shrunk down the new trunk, and disapparated back to Little Whinging.
Stepping back into the house, he found a note tacked to the fridge. Petunia did in fact want a few things from the grocery store, and had left twenty pounds on the counter. He left them where they were, again disillusioned himself, and popped away. The grocery store wasn't that far away, but it was the novelty of it, after all. Not that he would ever get lazy, allowing magic to do everything for him. That was one of the things his relatives hated, and they did have a point.
The store, of course, was an absolute zoo. Everything else had gone so well, so there had to be a cock-up somewhere, right? He collected the items on the list as quickly as he could, then joined the lengthy queue at the cashier. He thought of the items in the basket, realizing Petunia wanted pancakes for breakfast. He had added some fresh strawberries and blueberries to the list, to add a little flavour. His mind then wandered back to the items now cluttering his pockets, and why he hadn't emptied them before going shopping. 'Bloody hell, what would the bobbies say if I were questioned?' The strange items that lay miniaturized in his pocket would most definitely result in some VERY uncomfortable questions.
More importantly, however, was the very dark object among them. One of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Even now, in its miniaturized state, he could hear it whispering to him in a language only he and one other understood: parseltongue, the language of snakes.
When he finally got back to the house, Petunia had returned, as had Dudley.
"I see you have still not—" but broke off, noticing the grocery bags Harry was carrying. "Did you not see the money left on the counter?"
"It's fine, I covered it," answered Harry, as he carried the groceries into the kitchen.
"Go, I'll put things away," said Petunia. Harry only nodded, then went to his room. There was stuff to unpack!
The trunk was first. Anything serious was to be done in the trunk. Just because the magic detectors would be vanishing soon didn't mean he could act recklessly. Even though Voldemort had not been able to return, he still wished not to draw the attention of the Ministry—although that would most likely happen anyway.
Next, came the other standard items he had purchased. Hedwig was resting on the window sill, watching her owner expectantly. Somehow she knew he had bought her more treats.
"Yes, Hedwig, I have more treats for you and your friends," Harry grinned, pulling out the package, and giving her one. "It was a good day today I think." He pulled out the cloth containing the Horcrux, and placed it in the second compartment of his new trunk. That would have to do for the time being, until he had better security.
Next thing on the list was the two vanishing cabinets, of which one was busted. It was the one thing he could never figure out; how Draco had managed to fix it. The brat had eventually came over to the light, perhaps a little too late to have any real effect. He had died trying to save Luna from Belletrix Lestrange, who had taken great offence her nephew had switched sides. Perhaps he could get to the prince of Slytherin sooner this time around.
For now, the two vanishing cabinets joined the Horcrux in the second compartment. He then finished emptying his pockets, and re-enlarged the parchment. That was his next project. Taking out a pencil, he started tracing a series of runes at the top. He also pulled out a scrap of parchment, as well as an Arithmancy text and an Ancient Runes text he had purchased at Florish & Blott's. They would help with the calculations.
When done, it would be a stark improvement on another piece of parchment he still had tucked away in his school trunk: the Marauder's map. This map he was creating would self-update wherever he might be.
He had spent an insane amount of time attempting to understand how the Marauder's map was created, and in fact it was only three years before his final confrontation with Voldemort he had finally cracked the secret. He had been able to do exactly what he was attempting at the moment, and it had worked famously. It was in fact key to his final victory.
Now, he continued scribbling out calculations, adding additional runes as they were calculated. It had taken him many hours to do it the first time, and this time would be no different. He finally went to bed as the clock red 2:00 am.
Just before 7 am, there was a knock at the door. "Harry, you wanted to make us breakfast, right?"
"Yeah, sure thing, Dud," Harry answered, grinning, as the room came into fuzzy focus. Yes, things were definitely better this summer than they ever had been. Slipping his glasses onto his face, he sat up, and started. The strange object he had upset in the room of requirement the day before now sat in the middle of his bedroom.
