Chapter Seven: London
The dirty alleyway down the street from the Leaky Cauldron was the only place that all four of them knew in London that was reasonably private. Harry figured a stray obliviate spell would take care of anyone lounging in the alley who shouldn't be, but he didn't mention this to Hermione, knowing full well what her reaction would probably be.
Luckily, the alley was empty. Ron and Hermione were already there when Harry and Ginny apparated in, and Ron was obviously itching to get going.
They made their way out of the alley and walked along, as they had agreed, hand in hand. To anyone looking, they were simply two couples backpacking through London. Harry had gone so far as to transfigure Canadian flag emblems which Ginny had applied to their rucksacks with sticking charms. Ginny's hair was up under her floppy Australian backcountry hat, and Hermione had tamed her hair into a french plait and was wearing dark sunglasses. Ron had a camera hanging from a strap around his neck which was actually their navigation equipment. Hermione had transfigured it to make them blend in better. Harry wore a baseball cap over his messy black hair and had applied a sunshade charm to his glasses. Anyone looking would probably not recognize them unless they knew them.
"Where next?"
"We need a map... a couple of maps, actually. One of London, and one of the whole of the UK. As a matter of fact, a detailed mapbook of Europe might not be a bad idea," Harry said as quietly as he could so they would all hear. He didn't fancy being overheard in this part of London. They were still far too close to the Leaky Cauldron.
"Would they sell them there?" Ginny pointed across the road to a shop that appeared to sell souvenirs. Unfortunately, it was closed.
"It probably would," Harry said. "But they won't be open for hours yet. We need to lose ourselves in London for a few hours. If anyone is looking for us, they'll look around here. We're too close to Diagon Alley."
"How about this?" Ron said, pointing to a transit map on the side of a pole beside wide steps going down.
"Harry, we're supposed to be tourists, let's act like it," Hermione muttered. "What would we be doing if we really were?"
"Getting breakfast," Harry said, smiling. "And then seeing the sights. Let's make our way over to Trafalgar Square and go from there, shall we?"
They found their way to Trafalgar Square, gazed up at Nelson's Column and sat on the side of the large fountain while they opened the packet of food Arthur had prepared for them.
"Rather more than Mum's biscuits," Ginny muttered.
Apparently Arthur had been up for some time, if he'd even gone to bed at all. There were several egg sandwiches and four bottles of butterbeer, which Harry hurriedly stuffed into his rucksack. All they needed was for some witch or wizard to notice what they were drinking... or some muggle to ask where it might be purchased.
After eating the sandwiches, they divided the remaining biscuits and fruit amongst themselves and headed off towards the tourist shops lining the streets in the direction of Buckingham Palace. Ron had suggested walking down Whitehall, but Harry, for some reason, wanted to stay as far away from Downing Street as possible.
By the time they reached the roundabout in front of the palace, the shops were beginning to open, and Harry and Hermione ducked quickly into one to buy a map book, leaving Ron and Ginny lounging in the early morning sunshine outside..
"Canadians, hmm?" the shopkeeper, a portly man in his fifties grinned at them, eyeing the Canadian flag emblems on their packs. "Honeymoon? You seem rather young."
Harry nearly panicked. The shopkeeper was expecting them to respond. What would happen when he spoke, with a British accent?
"No... not our honeymoon," Hermione grinned. Harry was shocked. She was speaking with a perfect Canadian accent. Or as perfect as he could tell, in any case. "Just friends... four of us spending our gap year travelling."
"Well, have a good time!" The shopkeeper smiled back, and they exited the shop.
"How on earth...?"
"I used to watch a lot of television," Hermione commented.
"You never cease to amaze me," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Glad to hear it," Hermione smirked, taking Ron's hand again as they walked down the street.
Harry knew the area where the orphanage was located. He knew the street, because the street sign showing the cross streets had been part of the memory that Dumbledore had shared with him. He could see it in his mind, and it was merely a matter of finding the cross streets on the map and heading in that direction. Unfortunately, the children's home proved to be at the other end of London.
"We'll have to take the tube," Hermione said.
Ron looked rather green at this. "Couldn't we just... walk?"
"To Hounslow? Are you insane? We might get there by tomorrow, if our feet don't fall off first, and if we aren't mugged."
"Mugged?" Ginny screwed up her nose and looked at Hermione. "Is that something the muggles do?"
"Yes," Hermione snapped. "Now go on... down to the tube. Ginny, do not let go of Harry. If we get separated, get off at the next stop and Harry or I will find you. If all else fails, go to Hounslow station, get off and sit on a bench. Do not approach a muggle for help!"
With this, Hermione herded them through the station, after slapping Ron's hand as he reached out to touch the ten pound note she paid their fare with, and herded them through the crowd to an empty spot on the platform.
"Why are we just standing here?" Ron asked quietly after a minute.
"We're waiting for the train, Ron," Hermione said under her breath. "Just wait."
A few moments later, the train came flying into the station and Ron got a very eager look on his face.
"Does it go that fast the whole way?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed, pushing him onto the train, and following him.
Luckily it wasn't that full, and the four of them found seats together. They had a rather long ride ahead of them, so they sat back, silently, and waited.
By the time they got to the station in the west end of London, it was nearly ten in the morning. They'd been up since before five, and Ginny had yawned a couple of times, her head bobbing against Harry's shoulder.
"Next stop," Hermione said, standing and heading towards the doors, Ron in tow.
"Ginny," Harry shook her.
"Hmm?"
"Time to wake up, we're nearly there."
In an instant, her eyes were wide and she was sitting straight. "Oh, sorry..."
"It's okay. This is our stop," Harry stood as they pulled into the station and took her hand, pulling her towards the doors.
"Where now?" Ron asked several minutes later as they emptied out of the station onto the street.
"This way," Hermione said, tugging him across the street and to the right.
It turned out to be a five minute walk, and the four stuck close together. Ginny pressed close to Harry's side, and he put an arm around her, watching the passersby suspiciously, few as they were.
"It should be just up here..." Hermione turned up a side street and walked on. Within moments, however, she stopped and looked up.
"Oh."
The children's home was a huge building in relation to it's neighbors. What appeared to have been a private home at some point was now derelict and on the point of falling down. There was a huge "No Trespassing" sign nailed to the gate.
Apparently, the orphanage had been closed down.
"You lot... what do you want?"
Harry turned to see a man wearing denims and a hardhat coming towards them.
"Sorry..." he began.
"My grandfather was raised here," Hermione stepped forward, speaking again in her Canadian accent. "I didn't know it was closed... we just thought we'd see it while we were in London."
The workman caught sight of their rucksacks and looked back at Hermione.
"Where you from?"
"Canada. Toronto," she lied smoothly. Harry and Ron exchanged shocked looks.
"Toronto? I've got a sister moved there..." he eyed them carefully. "The place has been closed for about five years now. City has ordered it demolished. It's due to come down next week. You're lucky you came when you did, or all you'd have seen would be a pile of rubble."
"I don't suppose..." Hermione glanced at the building. "My grandfather told me how to get to his room... I don't suppose it would be possible for us to... go in?"
The man looked carefully at them. "I suppose. I'm here for another hour... but then you've got to be out. I want you to come out to my van there and check in on your way, so's I know you've gone. It's safe enough inside... but don't be moving anything!"
"Thank you!" Hermione gave him her biggest smile, and the man smiled back.
Picking their way over the debris littering the walkway, Harry muttered under his breath. "I would never have thought it, Hermione."
"What?'
"That you could lie with such ease to an authority figure."
"Ah..." Hermione giggled. "I just pretended I was playing a part."
Inside they found a wide front entry with a desk sitting to the side. Ron ran a finger over the dusty surface.
"Don't touch anything, Ron," Hermione whispered. "Anything could be a portkey."
Ron and Harry looked at her, traded a look with Ginny, and then moved further into the building. They all remembered the way to Tom Riddle's room from the memory that Dumbledore had shared with Harry. They made their way silently up the stairs and down the long hallway, through to the door.
"This is it," Harry said.
Opening it, it was almost an anti-climax to find a bare, empty, dirty room. There were tattered curtains hanging at the broken window, and someone had spray-painted graffiti on the wall.
"It's cold," Ginny shivered.
"Can you feel anything, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry stood in the middle of the room, turning. "The wardrobe..."
Hermione turned, and opened the wardrobe door. This was where Dumbledore had found the box of Tom Riddle's souvenirs from his bullying. It, too, was bare.
"Nothing here..." Ron said.
"We should go find an office and see if there are any records or anything left."
"Wait a minute," Harry turned again. Dumbledore had found the box of things in the wardrobe. That had been too easy. Harry himself knew that when hiding things, you put stuff in the most obvious place so that people would find it and stop looking.
At least, it always worked on Dudley.
"What is it?"
"Where would the bed have been?" Harry asked.
"Over there, most likely," Hermione pointed against the wall.
"Ron, give me a hand here..." Harry handed his rucksack to Ginny and moved over to where Hermione pointed. Looking closely at the floorboards, he let out a short laugh and reached out with his fingers, prying one up.
"Harry?"
"Old trick," Harry said. "Loose floorboards under beds make great hiding spots."
Under the floorboard, there appeared to be nothing for a moment, until Harry reached for his wand.
"Harry..." Hermione reached out with a small penlight. "Don't use magic here."
Harry put his wand away, then shone the penlight into the crevice. Sure enough, there was what appeared to be a bundle of rags.
"What is it?"
"Could be nothing," Harry said. "Lots of kids probably stayed in this room after him..."
"Be careful," Hermione said softly as Harry pulled the bundle out and began to unwrap it.
"Why would he have left something here when he left? He didn't expect to come back, did he?"
"He didn't leave this when he left to go to Hogwarts," Harry said. "He left this after... he leaves them in places that mean something to him. He came back, later."
"Them?" Ginny looked at him oddly.
"Yes," Harry said. "The horcruxes."
And with that, he folded back the last bit of fabric to reveal a small golden cup, with an engraving of a badger on it.
"One," said Harry.
They hurriedly checked in with the foreman and headed off down the street and back towards the tube station. By the time they reached it they were nearly running. Hermione again paid their fares and the next thing they knew, they were on a nearly empty train heading back into the heart of London.
"What do we do with it?" Ron asked.
"We have to destroy it," Ginny said softly. "Like the diary."
"Not right away," Harry said softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if we destroy them as we go, he might be able to just keep making more. I'm not sure if he knows when one has been destroyed. Dumbledore thought he might feel... loss... or something like it. Whether he can make more or not, I don't particularly want to tip him off as we go. We have to collect all that are left and destroy them all at the same time."
"But, Harry... what if he... what if we..." Hermione looked horrified.
"What if he captures us and gets them back?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"If he captures Harry, Hermione, the least of our worries is going to be the little bits of his soul littering England," Ron said as quietly as he could.
"It's getting on for noon," Harry said gently. "You know... this is only our first day... I never expected to..."
"Are you sure that it's real, Harry?"
"Sure," Harry said. "I can feel it."
"Feel it?" Ginny looked at him.
"Like I could feel the diary... and the ring. I... I'm drawn to it."
"How?"
"It's hard to explain. It's kind of... magnetic. Really, really faint, but... I don't know how else to explain it."
They were all silent for the rest of the trip, got off the tube at Leicester Square, and found an information booth. Hermione pulled her Canadian accent thing again, and asked after campgrounds. The girl in the booth told them about several hostels, then informed her that to camp out, they'd probably have to go as far as Surrey or Kent.
"Surrey," said Harry. "I know of one just outside Little Whinging... my uncle used to pass it on the way back from picking me up in London."
"But how..."
"Well, we can either take the bus and get there tonight, or we can risk apparating, and if we get separated, meet up there later."
"I don't fancy apparating to somewhere I can't make a proper picture of in my mind," Hermione said. "My luck, someone will end up splinched, and we'll be in trouble."
"Then let's find out how to get there by bus," Harry said.
It turned out that there was a bus that left Heathrow that went through Little Whinging every afternoon. All they needed to do was get to Heathrow by two o'clock, find the bus station, buy their tickets and wait.
"One thing about it, travelling as muggles," Ginny said as Harry hailed a cab. "No one would expect it."
The taxi took them directly to the bus station at Heathrow, and the four climbed out and headed for the ticket agents. Harry bought four tickets to the next stop past Little Whinging, and directed them all to the bus stand they would be boarding at. They had a very short wait.
The campground was small, and Harry looked around as they walked up to it. They'd passed it on the bus, then hopped off at Little Whinging. The busdriver had told them it wasn't their stop, but Harry had smiled and said that they'd decided to walk the rest of the way. It was only a few miles.
They waited until the bus was gone, then Harry led them through Little Whinging and back the way they had come.
"This is the town you grew up in, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Harry said shortly.
"Do you want to...?"
"No."
Ginny smirked at Hermione, who shrugged back at her. "Harry, it might be an idea for us to stop at the grocers before we leave the town. You do want to eat tonight, don't you?"
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at her, searching for any signs of sarcasm. She looked innocently up at him, a smile on her face. Harry let out an exasperated breath, then turned back toward the town.
"This way."
Ginny was later to call it 'commando shopping'. Harry flew through the store, eliciting a few curious looks from the locals. In all, they couldn't have been inside more than seven minutes. Hermione looked impressed.
At the last minute, Ron added three bags of crisps and a bottle of cola. Harry just looked at him.
"I'm a growing boy," Ron grinned.
"So, back are you?" the woman behind the desk looked at him suspiciously. "Thought you'd moved."
"They moved. I didn't," Harry said, paying her quickly and grabbing the carryalls, moving away before the clerk could respond.
Ron held out his hand for the change, and then leaned over the counter. "His aunt is a prissy cow, and his uncle subscribed to naughty magazines meant for women. Harry's the best of the lot."
The now-speechless clerk stared after them as they went.
"What did you say to her?" Hermione asked him as he caught up with them.
"Thank you and have a nice day?" Ron smiled innocently. Hermione's eyes narrowed on him.
"Never trust a smiling Weasley," Ginny said softly. Harry, his mood improving the closer they got to the edge of town, laughed.
Checking into the caravan park proved to be a problem when they didn't have a caravan. Or a car. Hermione did her Canadian thing again, and Harry pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes, but the park manager still eyed him suspiciously.
"'aven't I see you before?"
"Me? Couldn't have," Harry said, shaking his head.
"I don't like giving room to tenters with no vehicle... it ain't right, this hitchhiking business you young folk take such stock in."
"I'm sure you're right," Hermione continued. "But it's getting late, and we really want to just set up our tent and..."
"Tent?" the manager's eyes narrowed. "You mean tents, don't you now?"
"Um," Hermione glanced back at the others. "It's really quite large..."
"One of them multi-room ones?" the manager perked up considerably at this. "Couple of Americans came through last week with one of them... zipped down the middle, it did. What will those Americans think of next, I wonder?"
"Yes... yes, it's a... multi room tent."
Ron stifled a chuckle, only to wince as Hermione brought her foot down hard on the top of his trainer.
"Right then... lot thirty. Best of the lot... faces the river, it does."
"Thank you."
"Twenty five pound," the short, pudgy man held out his hand.
"Twenty five...!" Harry started, only to have Ginny clear her throat meaningfully.
Harry shut up, and even managed to hold it in until they were at the site, had their tent set up and were safely inside.
"Twenty five pounds for a bloody chunk of grass for the night?"
"Harry, we're here... it's safe. We have a place to sleep..." Ginny began pulling groceries out of the carryalls and organizing things for dinner.
"And cook dinner," Ron grinned.
"And no one is going to bother us until morning," Hermione said tiredly. "As far as I'm concerned, that's worth twenty five pounds."
"It's bloody highway robbery," Harry grumbled.
"It may be, but as it's his grass, he can charge whatever he likes for it," Ginny pointed out as she cut chicken into cubes and added it to the pan already heating on the stove.
"What are you making?" Ron asked, sniffing over the pan.
"Chicken curry," Ginny said, eyeing her brother over her shoulder. Ron grimaced. "What?"
"I'm not fond of curry," he said.
"Then tomorrow night, when you cook, you can make whatever you bloody like. Tonight, I'm cooking, so I'm making chicken curry!"
"Well, can we at least have chips?"
"You can have chips," Ginny said, more calmly.
"We need to talk about what we're going to do next," Hermione said. "I can't believe our luck, finding one of the horcruxes on our first day..."
"I had an idea that there might be something there," Harry admitted.
"How?"
"It was a place where Tom Riddle spent a lot of time... a lot of painful memories. He hides these things in places that mean a lot to him. The ring in his mother's childhood home, the diary left with Lucius, with the instructions to get it into Hogwarts, now the cup in the orphanage."
"Harry, you said that someone has to die to make a horcrux, right?" Ginny asked.
"Taking a life is one component of the spell, yes."
"So, what other lives has he taken?" Ginny asked as she quickly prepared potatoes to make the chips Ron had requested.
"Myrtle..." said Ron.
"Myrtle doesn't count," Hermione pointed out.
"I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear you say that, Hermione," Ron drawled.
"No... I mean, he didn't really kill her."
"He let the bloody basilisk out..."
"No, Hermione's right," Harry said, grabbing one of the bottles of butterbeer that Arthur had included and casting a quick chilling charm. Ginny handed him a second bottle and he cast the second charm without thinking, uncorking the bottle and handing it back to her without even looking up. He totally missed the look exchanged between Ron and Hermione. "He has to commit the murder directly."
"So... who else?"
"I'm not sure that we're approaching this in the right way," Harry said.
"Why?"
"We need to follow his movements. I think it's more important where he's been than who we know he's killed. He could easily have killed any number of muggles, and we would never know."
"Any number? You're sure there are only seven of these things?" Ron asked, paling.
"Dumbledore assured me that the number seven had an important meaning to Tom Riddle, and that splitting his soul any further would be nearly impossible."
"Okay," Ginny said, leaning against the countertop. "So we visited Hounslow today, scene of his life before magic. Where did he go next?"
"Hogwarts," Ron said.
"And then?"
"Borgin and Burkes... he went out to client homes and bought things..."
"You don't think...?"
"He wouldn't have hidden something in a client's home?"
"I doubt it," Harry said. "None of them would have any real meaning to him."
"But?" Ginny asked.
"The store might," Hermione pointed out.
"I don't think so, Hermione," Harry said. "Too much chance of it being found and sold."
"So? Where now?"
"Well, there is the locket," Harry pointed out. "The one that Dumbledore took from that cave was fake. The note proves that. I'm not sure how RAB, whoever that is, managed to get it out without touching the potion, but..."
"But the very fact that there was a note proves that he did," Ron said.
"So, who is RAB?" Ginny asked.
"Someone who had access to his plans, but changed his mind and went against him in the end, knowing that it would mean his own death," Harry said. "That's what I got from the note, in any case. And to face that..."
Harry shuddered, the thought of all the undead who had been in that cave...
"RAB, RAB..." Hermione's brow was furrowed. She tapped out a rhythm on the table top. "RAB..."
"Obviously a wizard," Ginny said, scooping up curry and chips and placing a plate in front of Harry.
He smiled up at her, "Thanks, Ginny. This looks great."
"Well, what wizarding names do we know that start with 'B'?" Ron asked, diving into his plate as Ginny place it before him.
"Well, there's Millicent Bagnold, she was the Minister of Magic before Fudge," Hermione said.
"And Heathcote Barbary!" Ginny said with a grin, doing an odd little jig before placing a plate in front of Hermione and then sitting down with her own.
"Who?" Harry looked at her oddly.
"Weird Sisters guitarist," Ron said through a mouthful of chips. "What about Ludo Bagman?"
"Ludo? Steal your gold Ludo?" Ginny snorted. "I think not."
"Well, there's Bathilda Bagshott," Hermione said, chewing contemplatively.
"Who?" All three looked at her. She looked back at them, surprised.
"Honestly, Ginny, you're as bad as they are! Bathilda Bagshott... she wrote A History of Magic."
Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. Apparently he hadn't known that, either.
"There is the Bones family, and the Boot family..." Ginny said.
"Let's face it, 'B' is a perfectly common last initial in the wizarding world," Ron said, taking another bite of chips, this time with a bit of chicken curry.
"Yes... perfectly common... like Black?" Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes rounding with surprise. "Harry?"
"No..." Harry looked at her, obviously having clued in to what she was onto. "No, you don't think...?"
"What was his middle name?"
"I have no idea."
"What are you two on about?" Ron asked, a forkful of curry halfway to his mouth.
"Sirius had a brother, Ron," Harry said. "He was a death eater... until he panicked and tried to get out. His name was Regulus... Regulus Black."
"Regulus A. Black?" Ginny asked.
"It certainly could have been," Harry said. "And the dates... they could have been..."
"Harry, we need to find out if he got away with the locket."
"We need to find out a lot of things, Hermione. Namely, where the hell Tom Riddle disappeared to between the time he left Borkin and Burkes and when he turned up looking for a job at Hogwarts. There's a lot of years unaccounted for."
"Where do you think he went?"
"I think he went to Europe... eastern Europe," Harry said quietly. "But, tomorrow we need to start some research, and find out for sure."
"And where..?"
"Muggle library. They keep something called microfiche..."
"Can you eat it?" Ron asked hopefully.
"Microfiche, Ron, not microfish," Hermione said disgustedly.
"What?"
"It's how they keep records of muggle newspapers. We need to start reading about what went on where... all through the sixties and seventies."
"Twenty years worth of muggle news?" Ron looked oddly ill.
"You can have the sports section, Ron," Ginny smiled, clearing their plates.
Okay, I'm posting this without my normal review responses for two reasons: one, because it's rather long already, and two, because I am facing an unbelievably busy day, and if I don't post it now, it won't get posted. I figured you all would prefer to read the chapter without my comments than not read it at all, so here it is – thanks for reading!
CQ