The Ministry supplied Azkaban Portkey dropped Harry painfully on his behind on icy cold rocks inside a bare courtyard. The yard was big enough to hold hundreds of people, but the bewildering height of the surrounding walls made it somehow feel cramped and oppressive, as if you were about to be squeezed in a gigantic stone press.
His Auror guards helped him up and quickly marched towards a wall that looked no different to Harry than any of the others surrounding them. Staggeringly cold wind swirled down from the top of those walls and raced across the open space, plucking at his clothes as he walk like it was trying to find a way to penetrate his protection and steal away his warmth. He could only wonder at how much worse it could have been if the Dementors had still been present.
Reaching the nondescript section of wall, one of the guards rested his hand against a completely blank, featureless section. Nothing happened for a few seconds, making Harry start to wonder if the guard had a made a mistake, but then a silver light sprung from the rock right in front of where they stood, outlining a doorway. The door slowly swung open with the teeth-jarring grinding noise of heavy stone being dragged protestingly over more stone, making Harry wince, and setting his teeth on edge.
Inside, past a heavily barred reception area, Harry was subjected to a dozen different tests, several which required blood. He was forced to strip and change into plain grey robes under the watchful and unblinking eyes of two Aurors, who never lowered their wands the whole time they were in the same room, and looked like they meant business.
"Since the Dementors have gone, we have had to implement many stringent new security measures," one of the original guards told him, by way of apology.
Harry nodded while thinking that none of this would stop Voldemort if he decided to free his incarcerated followers. Still, it was better than just leaving the prisoners walk out anytime they choose because somebody had slipped in some Polyjuice potion, like Barty Crouch had basically done.
The guards told him the above ground portion of the prison held those considered to be low risk prisoners. Mundungus was regarded as little more than a public nuisance and would not have been in the maximum security prison at all, if he had not been caught at a time when the Ministry was trying to demonstrate to the public it was taking harsh steps to combat Voldemort. He was due to be released soon, but hadn't been told, since his sentence had been recently reduced without his knowing.
Harry didn't understand the logic of the Ministry not informing Mundungus of his impending release, and considered it a bit cruel, but then took the knowledge with him intending to use it as a bargaining chip if he had to.
Marching down long, drab corridors lined with intimidating steel doors, he could almost feel the fear inducing presence of the departed Dementors, even though they had not been there for years. It was as if their very essence had sunk into the grey stone, imparting the rock itself with some of their foul nature. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as he considered that the lower levels where they had lurked in greater numbers would be infinitely worse. Places like where Sirius had survived, barley sane, for a dozen years.
Three guards escorted with him through the labyrinth, one in front and two behind, all three with their wands drawn and eyes peeled. Their watchfulness made Harry even more nervous. The echo of their footsteps returned eerily, as if it had found something terrifying and ran back to them.
Occasionally a face or a hand could be seen either pressed against the small grid in the doors looking at them as they passed, or reaching out, as if begging for something. Voices called to them from inside the oppressive cells, demanding this or asking for that. The desperation in some of the weak pleas tore at Harry almost as badly as real Dementors. He couldn't imagine surviving one day in here, let alone over a decade in conditions that could only have been a thousand times worse.
When they reached the right cell, the front guard unlocked the door with a large key and stepped inside. Harry followed, as did one of the rear guards. The third one closed the door and stayed outside in the corridor.
Mundungus, never a clean fellow before, looked positively dreadful. He was even more bedraggled and ragged, and at first didn't seem to recognise Harry. When he finally did, he retreated into the corner of the cell in fear, since the last time they had met Harry had nearly throttled him.
"Mundungus, I am looking for the things you took from Sirius," Harry told him in as threatening a voice as he could muster. The sorry state of the man had shaken Harry's resolve, but not broken it. He also knew every word would be reported back to the Minister, so he couldn't just come out and say what he was looking for, or appear friendly.
"It was rubbish," Mundungus said in a quiet, shaky voice. "He had thrown it out. It was all in those big bags, honest. I didn't take nothing."
Harry felt his anger rise at the lie. Not everything he had seen in the spilled contents of Mundungus's suitcase had been thrown out by Sirius, some of it had come from the house as soon as his godfather had been murdered.
"Now I know that is not exactly true," he said. "But I am willing to forgive you, if you help me get it back. Do you still have any of it?"
Mundungus shook his head.
"Who did you sell it to?" demanded Harry.
"I can't tell you that!"
"Yes you can, and you will, or I will press charges against you for stealing my property in the first place. Do you feel like extending your sentence here?"
He hated threatening the man, even if he had no intention in following through with it. Mundungus looked rightly terrified at maybe having to spend more time in jail, but a cunning gleam entered his eyes when he caught Harry shooting a nervous glance at the guards.
"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to put in a good word for me, all right?"
Harry had no intention of doing any such thing, so he just stood quietly, patiently waiting for the sorry man to give in. Mundungus took his prolonged silence as sign of agreement.
"You remember who I was talking to when you saw me?" he asked, showing a surprising amount of caution by not saying a name in front of the Aurors.
Harry nodded, remembering confronting him while he was talking to Aberforth, the proprietor of the Hog's Head tavern in Hogsmeade.
"He took the lot. Said he needed lots of silver for something, I dunno what though."
Harry nodded his understanding. The next part was tricky.
"Do you remember any of it? There were some goblin wrought silver goblets, maybe some cutlery. Do you remember?"
"Yeah," agreed Dung. "There was that."
"Do you remember seeing any jewellery? A ring, a gold locket, a necklace, or a snuff box maybe?"
"I remember a locket and a ring. Nice bits they were. I couldn't open the locket though, and couldn't get the crest off the ring. Don't remember a snuff box."
Harry fought to keep his voice level. He needed to throw his minders off the scent.
"There was a music box. Do you remember the music box?"
Dung screwed his eyes closed in concentration, looking a bit too convincing for Harry to entirely believe he was really trying to remember something, rather than just acting the part.
"Come on, Dung. It's important. It played a nice little tune that made people relax," he prompted.
Dung's eyes shot open as he apparently recalled the item in question. "It nearly put me to sleep when I opened it, I remember that!" he said excitedly.
Harry grinned triumphantly.
"And you sold it to Aberforth, the music box right?"
"Yeah. He took it, and the other stuff."
Dung looked nervously at Harry before continuing, and Harry knew there was something else, something Mundungus didn't want to reveal, so he again just waited patiently.
"But I kept the Order of Merlin, for me-self," the thief finally admitted.
Harry almost laughed, despite the horrible feelings that had been crowding him since he set foot on the lonely island.
"You can have that. All I want is the music box," he said, looking quickly at his guards, "and a few other things. Family heirlooms you see. Thank you for your help."
"Don't forget to put in a good word for me!" Dung called out as Harry left the cell with his silent escort.
Plans forming in his head as he walked, Harry didn't hear the voice call his name until a guard stopped him.
From behind the dirty bars of one of the uncountable, identical cells, looked the platinum haired, grey eyed face of Lucius Malfoy. He was gaunt and even paler than usual, but still wore the same perpetual sneer that Harry had always hated.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," the vile man said smugly. "Come to visit the old stomping ground of your godfather have you?"
Harry nearly leapt at the bars in angry response, but managed to restrain himself and compose a reply.
"Why aren't you down stairs with the rest of your sorry friends Malfoy? Think you are too good for them now do you?"
"Dear boy," Lucius drawled. "Of course I am too good for them. You don't expect me to be put into the kind of place you would keep a mangy dog, do you?"
"If you were a dog, I would have put you down long ago, Malfoy, you and your pathetic looser of a son."
Lucius's smile stiffened at the mention of his son, and Harry pressed his point.
"I suppose you have heard all about how he failed, haven't you? Did they tell you that, through no skill or cunning of his own, he had Dumbledore at the end of his wand and was too gutless to go through with it? Did they mention he is now being actively hunted and will soon be joining you here? I hope the cell is big enough for two, Malfoy, because the only way you are ever going to see him again is when they drag his sorry behind in here to share your fine, new accommodations with you."
"And you want to know the best part, Malfoy? The only reason he even tried to do a real man's job was because he was scared the big, bad, nasty snake was angry with daddy and was going to hurt mummy, but probably right now they are both learning exactly how your master loves it when his slaves fail him. I hope you enjoy that image, Lucius, I know I do."
Lucius's cool facade suddenly cracked and twisted into a mask of rage and hatred. He yelled incoherently and flung an arm out between the bars to grab at Harry. The Aurors jumped forward and threw the almost foaming at the mouth prisoner back into the recesses of his cell with a flick of their wands.
Harry immediately turned and walked towards the exit, making the guards run to catch up. He felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and shame at having goaded the imprisoned and helpless man into loosing his composure, but it served Malfoy right for trying to torment him in the first place; Turnabout is fair play, after all.
Leaving the depressing prison after another series of tests and searches, he was surprised to find the Portkey landing area of the Ministry was un-warded against apparition. It was supposed to be used for Aurors and Ministry officials only, but Harry had no qualms in Apparating directly to Hogsmeade and managed to avoid having to meet with the Minister of Magic.
Inside the small, dirty room that was the Hog's Head tavern, Harry quickly found the barman in his traditional position performing the seemingly endless task of cleaning the glassware with a rag that appeared to be at least as dirty as the glass in question.
"I am looking for some goods that I believe you were sold," he told Aberforth, after ordering a butterbeer.
Now that he knew it, Harry could see the resemblance between the grumpy, grey haired and bearded proprietor, and Albus Dumbledore, but it didn't make him any more comfortable when the somewhat familiar piercing blue eyes stared at him.
"What exactly are you after?"
Harry swallowed nervously. Coming directly here without stopping to get Ron and Hermione, or to even put on his disguise, might have been a mistake. Seated all around the pub were the usual motley collections of cloaked and hooded people. Any one of them might have been a Death Eater, and any one of them might be very interested in knowing what he bought from the disreputable barman.
"Can we go somewhere to talk?" asked Harry quietly.
The barman nodded and led Harry to a back room that was stacked with boxes and bottles.
"I want everything Mundungus sold you from the Black House," said Harry as soon as the door closed behind them.
Aberforth didn't look impressed.
"Don't know what came from where," he answered. "You are going to have to be more specific."
"I am looking for a music box that puts you to sleep when it plays, a golden ring, a snuff box, and a golden locket. The ring has the Black family crest on it, but the locket is blank. The snuff box tries to bite you. Oh, and there was some silverware with the crest on it too and some goblin wrought cups with the crest on them too."
The old man once again looked penetratingly at Harry. Briefly Harry wondered if Aberforth shared the Legilimency skills of his brother, and hastily tried to empty his mind of emotions.
"I got the ring and the locket, but nothing else," Aberforth answered.
Harry tried to look disappointed. "Do you have any idea where the music box would have gotten to?"
"Borgin and Burkes," Aberforth answered simply.
"Can I see the ring and the locket, please?"
Aberforth grunted and left the room for a minute.
Harry sat, trying to calm his breathing and slow his heart down. He was potentially seconds away from obtaining the Horcrux that Dumbledore had so badly weakened himself trying to get.
They had virtually walked past it on their way to the cave that fateful night.
Aberforth returned and dropped a small leather bag on the table. Inside, Harry found the ring he had last seen Sirius dropping into the rubbish, and the locket he had only really examined closely in the Pensieve memories.
He had it. He had found a Horcrux.
Aberforth charge Harry an outrageous amount, especially when Harry only made a token effort at bargaining. He tried to pretend to be more interested in the missing music box, but he couldn't let the locket out of his hand once he had hold of it.
With a considerable emptier money bag, he left the Hog's Head through a back door and Apparated back to Grimmauld place where he immediately showed the locket to Ron and Hermione.
Ron was as ecstatic as Harry, and Hermione only slightly less so.
"It was dangerous to go on your own," she scolded, "especially since you weren't even in disguise."
"It all worked out okay, Hermione," said Ron. "Give the man a break."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Ron suddenly grabbed her up in a bear hug, lifting her off the floor to whirl through the air before planting a solid kiss on her protesting lips.
Harry cheered loudly.
When they broke apart, Hermione looked rather flushed and Ron looked quite happy.
"Wish I had found that was a way of stopping you a bit earlier," Ron said, earning a good natured slap from the blushing girl.
A strange foreboding swept over Harry as he watched his friends. With an unexplained growing sense of dread, he suddenly felt that finding the Horcrux had been the easy part.