Chapter 3
The Game is On
When he awoke, Harry felt anything but rested, and immediately his mind shifted back into overdrive. He reread Dumbledore's letter. When he finished reading it, he read it again, except that he skipped over the irritating paragraph about Professor Snape.
A certain calmness came over him. For the moment he determined to push Snape out of his mind. Harry realized that other than that paragraph, the letter provided him a glimmer of hope. While he could not agree with Dumbledore's assessment of his capabilities as a wizard, Harry nevertheless could not help but be filled with pride at his mentor's kind words. Moreover, he now had something that he could do. He could view the new memories to see if he could discover something that the professor could not. He could read the two horcrux books and Dumbledore's notebooks. Who knew where that would lead him, but anywhere was better than his current location, which was nowhere.
After reading the two thin volumes, Harry understood Dumbledore's reticence, as they contained little hard fact but much conjecture. Dumbledore had written so many notes of disagreement in the margins that Harry could not help but shake his head in confusion. Both books described horcruxes and how to create one in a similar fashion, but Harry already knew that information. The ancient text proved difficult to read with its antiquated language, but quite clearly it asserted that only an inanimate object could serve as a horcrux. Dumbledore's note in the margin stated: "No evidence for this. Can see no reason why animate object cannot be used." The newer book simply referred to "an object" without qualification. Harry knew of Dumbledore's belief that Voldemort's giant snake, Nagini, may be a horcrux. If the ancient text was correct, Nagini could not be. So which was correct, the book or Dumbledore? How could you find out without trying to create a horcrux yourself? This of course stated the fundamental problem: How can a researcher write about horcruxes without creating one to study? To do that, you must commit murder.
Harry needed to think, and he needed to escape the confines of his room. He realized that he had not left his bedroom since 10:00 pm and his small digital clock displayed 11:45 am. Hunger reawakened in his stomach as well, so Harry quickly showered, dressed and made himself lunch, given that he had missed breakfast. Fortunately the house was empty, the way Harry liked it best. He brushed his teeth, did not bother combing his hair, and headed out the door before any of his family could return. This would be an especially long walk, as he had much to think about.
The air felt warm and pleasant, and the stroll was so enjoyable that for a few minutes Harry did not think about much of anything. Thoughts of his friends flashed through his mind, and thoughts of Ginny. He immediately repressed these latter thoughts.
"I cannot be worrying about girls," he repeated like a mantra whenever thoughts of the handsome redhead invaded his consciousness. Surprisingly, Harry did not regret his decision to break up with her and did not find himself dwelling on it. Of course, Ginny was not physically in his presence, and Harry worried about his next visit to the Burrow where he could no longer avoid her. Neither had written during their weeks apart, and for that Harry gave thanks, as deep down he knew that the depth of his self-control remained highly questionable. For the moment, however, he pushed her image from his mind and decided to focus on the issues at hand.
"I need a plan," Harry quickly decided, and he figured he should deal with first things first. When would he leave the Dursley's? He had looked forward to that day for virtually his entire life, yet now that the day rapidly approached, actually making the move became difficult. This was the calm before the storm.
"It all starts as soon as I leave," Harry muttered to himself. He felt like a child climbing the ladder to a high diving board for the first time. If he just stayed here forever. . . But that option did not exist, for Harry knew that the protection afforded him by his mother's sacrifice would end upon his seventeenth birthday, now less than two weeks away. The time to leave had arrived.
Still, he could wait a few more days. Dumbledore's notebooks awaited him, the new memories needed to be viewed, and he required some time to absorb it all. Then he would move to Grimmauld Place so that the necessary protections could be reinstated. He desired to have his home as a refuge for the months ahead, for Harry had reaffirmed a second decision: Regardless of whether it opened on September first, he would not attend Hogwarts for his seventh year. He simply could not do what needed to be done unless he could have absolute freedom to come and go as he pleased, and he knew very well that Headmistress McGonagall would never agree to such a condition. The thought of not returning to his true "home" saddened him, and he made his way to the little park where he had spoken with Tonks the previous afternoon and for half an hour sat almost motionless on the same bench, lost in his thoughts.
"Do you come around here often, handsome?"
Shocked out of his trance, Harry's stomach lurched above his throat as his mind desperately tried to assimilate what had just occurred. A young woman with a seductive voice had just thrown him the most trite come-on line, but he realized that the voice was familiar, and . . . Hermione! It was Hermione's voice! Harry jumped up and turned to the broadly smiling faces of his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.
"You nearly killed me, Hermione; don't ever do that again," Harry gasped, but the smile on his face belied his true feelings. "How are you doing? What are you doing here?" Harry managed to ask.
"We asked for permission to see you, supposedly to check on how you're holding up 'under the strain', but really we just wanted to see you," explained Ron, still grinning with pleasure from surprising Harry so thoroughly.
"Ron really did all the work because I've been with my parents, but they said it would be OK to see you this afternoon," added Hermione. Harry could not help but notice that his female best friend was a female indeed, dressed in close-fitting muggle clothing that did not hide her like wizarding robes. The young man approved of the change of wardrobe whole-heartedly.
Harry stepped to the side of the park bench, and Hermione and he embraced. Both could feel a great deal more emotion than a simple welcoming hug. Clearly the past couple of weeks had been hard on all of them. Releasing Hermione, Harry gave Ron a more manly hug, wrapping his left arm around Ron's back, as Ron reciprocated with his right arm.
"Well, I think it's brilliant that you two are here. It hasn't been so bad this year, but it's lonely sometimes. Thanks so much."
Ron and Hermione could feel the emotion in Harry's quavering voice, and neither said anything for a moment.
Finally Hermione commented, "We can't stay all that long, Harry, only an hour or two. Let's sit down so that we can talk."
"Right," replied Harry, remembering his manners. After all, this was his home territory so to speak, so he should serve as the host. "There are some better benches over here where it's easier to talk. Come on." He led them some fifty yards to a couple of freshly varnished benches which formed an L under several stately Magnolia trees. Harry sat on the edge of one of them, Ron and Hermione sitting on the other. "So, what have you been doing, Hermione?"
"Oh I've been with my parents, and it's been nice. I see them so little anymore, and now this is our last summer. Sometimes I feel guilty about being away from them so much. But we can talk about that later, Harry. How have you been doing?"
Harry knew that Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about horcruxes and Harry's plans. They had promised to come with Harry, to be a part of the quest, to face the danger with him. Harry, however, did not wish to move the conversation in that direction just yet.
"Like I said, it hasn't been so bad. In fact this has probably been my best summer since I entered Hogwarts. My aunt and uncle pretty much leave me alone, and Dudley is always out with his gang. It's a little lonely, but maybe it's a good thing to have a little down time, you know. Anyway, I don't think I'll be here much longer. My birthday is coming up and then the protection here ends. Not much harm in leaving a week early."
"Are you coming to the Burrow then?" asked Ron hopefully.
"Not at first, going to . . ." Harry paused, not wanting to say the address of his house out in the open, "my house for a couple of days. There are some things we need to do about its security. Then I think I'll head over to the Burrow a little before my birthday, if that will be OK with your mum and dad."
"Of course it will, Harry. That will be great, and then you can stay for Bill's wedding, which is only two days later," Ron insisted, clearly pleased to be having his best friend at his house.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. I'll need to take my apparation test too, so I thought I would take care of that between my birthday and the wedding. Do you have your license yet, Ron?"
Ron smiled, "Yep, finally passed the test last week. Third try. I'm getting better at it, but I don't think I'll ever really like it."
Harry nodded in understanding, but Hermione clearly had no interest in these mundane matters.
"But what are you going to do after that, Harry," Hermione asked, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, "Do you know where you need to go first. Have you learned anything during the summer."
Should I tell them about the letter, Harry pondered. He wanted to, but they were out in the open, and he was reluctant to say anything, unless. . .
"Look, some things have happened, just last night, but we can't talk about it here, unless we use the spell," Harry explained in a voice just above a whisper.
"No, Harry, you should forget all of the Half Blood Prince's spells. There's nobody close, just speak softly." Hermione pursed her lips as she always did when discussing the Prince.
"This is not a game, Hermione, either one of you two does the spell, or we'll talk about the weather," Harry replied harshly, leaving no doubt that he meant what he said. Being underage still, he could not perform the spell without risking a Ministry inquiry.
Hermione felt torn between her distrust of anything to do with the Prince, who they now knew to be Professor Snape, and her desire to learn what was happening from Harry. Predictably she caved in.
"Oh OK. Muffliato," she spoke after discretely reaching for her wand, "There, no one can hear us now."
After checking to be sure, Harry leaned toward his friends, speaking in little more than a whisper, "McGonagall came to see me last night." He proceeded to relate his visit with the new headmistress, and Ron and Hermione paid close attention
Harry then described the contents of the package from Dumbledore, and his friends displayed their excitement that there would be more information for them to examine in their joint search for the horcruxes. Hermione noticed that Harry did not tell them about the letter. She was not sure if she should pursue it, but as usual she could not help herself.
"What about the letter, Harry. What did it say? Can we read it?"
"Well," replied Harry, "a lot of it is pretty personal. He sort of says some nice things about me, and it's, well, it's kind of embarrassing." His friends knew not to pursue it further. Harry's face hardened however and he continued, "But I'll tell you one thing that he wrote. Dumbledore says I have to trust Snape. He says that no matter what it looks like, no matter how Snape may have been involved in Dumbledore's death, Snape is not a death eater." Harry unknowingly stood up while saying this, pacing in front of his friends, staring daggers at them. "But I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the look on Snape's face. I heard him say the killing curse." Harry stopped pacing and stared at his friends, boring a hole through them.
Ron was intimidated by Harry's sudden mood swing, but Hermione with some trepidation pushed on.
"I know, Harry. Maybe Dumbledore made a mistake this time; he's been wrong before. But if he is right, (she saw Harry scowl) well, we just need to keep in mind what Dumbledore said. We shouldn't jump to any conclusions, one way or the other."
Harry calmed himself a bit and sat back down. He could accept this position.
"Yeah, you're right. But it's so hard. I can't even tell you the things that I want to do to the evil, greasy-haired git, and then Dumbledore says I have to trust him. I may have to work with him. How am I supposed to do that?" spat Harry, who again could not stay seated.
"I don't know, Harry," replied Hermione, who knew better than to push this further.
Changing the subject, Harry remarked, "I read the two horcrux books. One is really ancient. Not a lot of help though. I'll let you read them, Hermione, when we get to the Burrow, but the truth is that nobody really knows much about horcruxes. I mean, how do you study them? You can't just go around committing murders so that you can split your soul into a horcrux and then write a book about it. The books contradict each other quite a few times, and Dumbledore wrote a bunch of things in the margins disagreeing with parts of both books."
"What about the notebooks, Harry, what do they say?" asked Ron, relieved that the topic of conversation had moved away from Snape and that Harry had calmed.
"Haven't had a chance to read them yet," explained Harry, "Going to start on them tonight, and I'll look at the other two memories too, even though Dumbledore doesn't think they help. Still, we can't overlook anything, can we?" Harry realized that he had used the word "we" without thinking, and he realized that this was good and proper. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to help. It's going to be hard," Harry's voice choked slightly, "and it's going to be dangerous."
Hermione reached over to grab Harry's hand, pulled him up, and sat him down again between Ron and her.
"Listen, Harry, we're going to help anyway that we can. The three of us make a pretty good team. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, but together, we can do so much."
"That's right, Harry. I mean you are so talented and powerful, and Hermione is so smart, and I'm, well, I don't know what I can do other than play chess, but we've been through a lot together, and we aren't going to stop now," contributed Ron.
Harry's heart filled with emotion, and he could barely speak. Wrapping his right arm around Hermione and his left around Ron, he finally choked out one word, "Thanks."
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Since they still had another half hour before Hermione and Ron had to leave, Harry offered to show them around the neighborhood. For Hermione, a muggle-born and raised witch, this was nothing special, but Ron, a pure-blood, looked on in amazement. Ron had visited muggle stores and such from time to time during his life, always under the nervous protection of his mother, but he had never seen a real muggle neighborhood.
Harry and Hermione enjoyed Ron's amazed looks, as he learned many tidbits about muggle life - how to cross the street, mail delivery, children playing football in the side streets.
"Muggles are really amazing," exclaimed Ron, "it really wouldn't be so bad to be one, would it?"
Hermione thought this was funny and good-naturedly badgered Ron about his ignorance of the muggle world, but Harry did not join in. He thought back to what Dumbledore had written in his letter: "We wizards and witches have so segregated ourselves from the muggle world that we fail to appreciate that muggles are far more accomplished and inventive than we are." Hermione noticed, as she always did, Harry's sudden pensiveness.
"What are you thinking about, Harry?"
"What? Oh, just something Dumbledore wrote in his letter," and Harry quoted the statement for them.
"Yes, I know that Dumbledore felt that way; we had a few conversations about it." commented Hermione. "Did you know that as a young man he actually lived as a muggle for a couple of years? He still worked in the magical world, but he lived in a muggle flat, shopped, cooked and did everything like a muggle for about three years. Dumbledore told me that he learned more in those three years than in all his years in the magical world."
"Wow, I never knew that," Harry responded, and his admiration for the old man only increased. "That's why he always seemed quite comfortable with muggles, because he found out that muggles really aren't much different from wizards and witches."
Ron felt ashamed that he knew so little about muggles.
"Maybe I should do something like that once we take care of You Know Who. I hate feeling so stupid when I am with muggles. It's so stupid that pure bloods look down on muggle-born wizards and witches. The muggle-borns really have the advantage, at least once they graduate from school, because they know how to live in both worlds. I really wish that I was a muggle-born wizard like you two."
"Well, of course technically Harry is not muggle-born, but I know what you mean. Other than the discrimination we face from close-minded pure bloods, I'm happy that I am muggle-born." Hermione paused in thought for a moment. "Of course, it does have its disadvantages. Sometimes I feel like I am not really a part of either world, like I don't know who I am."
"I just wish I wanted to be a part of either world," muttered Harry with more than a touch of bitterness in his voice, "I hated every moment I spent in the muggle world, and then when I find out there is another world, there's some stupid prophecy, and people die, and . . ." Harry's voice trailed off.
Ron fidgeted nervously but put his arm on Harry's shoulder, "Yeah, you haven't been dealt a very good hand, mate, have you. I feel stupid that I thought your life was so great, being famous and rich and all."
Hermione's face creased with worry after hearing Harry's comment.
She embraced Harry and softly told him, "I know it isn't fair, Harry. But you are going to defeat him, I know you will. Then everything will be different. It will get better."
Harry returned the hug. "I hope so, but I'm not so sure."
Ron and Hermione's visit lifted Harry's spirits enormously, and over the next three days, he busied himself with the remaining contents of Dumbledore's package. He found the two muggle notebooks extremely interesting and helpful. They contained notes of Dumbledore's various findings and conclusions. At times the notes seemed cryptic and difficult for Harry to understand. Still, most of the notes were clear enough, and Harry once again felt amazed at the energy the old man displayed. Dumbledore had traveled all over England, Scotland and Wales pursuing various leads, and twice even traveled to the continent.
As Harry waded through the notes, he noticed that Dumbledore truly was a man of action, as whenever he came upon information pointing to a lead, he acted upon it within a matter of days. As would be expected, since Harry knew that only two of the Horcruxes had definitively been destroyed, most of the leads ended in dead ends.
Two nuggets of gold emerged however. Firstly, Dumbledore recorded how he located Slytherin's ring, which Harry gathered was quite an adventure in itself, though all Dumbledore recorded in his notebook were the following words, "Quite enjoyable protections to the horcrux. Needed logic and cunning to overcome." If this hardly provided a satisfying explanation of events, Dumbledore redeemed himself with a more detailed recounting of how he destroyed the ring.
"The ring resisted all normal attempts at destruction, as I expected. Unable to melt, crush, pulverize, transfigure, etc. Reducto curse had no effect. Even tried Avada Kedavra though I had no expectation of success. Determined that only hope was pure magical power. I had to put ring on finger, then battle it to the death. Exhausting. Power of horcrux is frightening, quite difficult to overcome. Only extremely powerful wizard or witch. My arm burned, actually withered, as a result. Has taken much out of me. Days to recover. But horcrux is destroyed. Could feel it when it died, though impossible to describe."
"YES!" Harry declared, energized by this account, for finally he had some hard information as to how to destroy a horcrux. Two confirmed destructions of horcruxes, Riddle's diary and Slytherin's ring. On Harry's walk that afternoon, he nearly lost himself, as he had walked so far without realizing it. Once he determined his location, he changed his direction back towards Privet Drive and again immersed himself in his thoughts. Though not an especially organized person, Harry tried to number in his mind what could be concluded and boiled it down to three basic truths:
1. There is no spell or magical procedure to destroy a horcrux.
2. It requires pure magical power. And lots of it.
3. The horcrux fights back.
Harry compared his destruction of Riddle's diary to Dumbledore's fifteen-rounder with Slytherin's ring. Clear differences existed, of course, the most glaring being Harry's avoidance of physical injury by the horcrux. Dumbledore knew he was destroying a horcrux while Harry did not; nevertheless, Harry now recognized the massive amount of energy that he put into stabbing the diary. Not physical energy but emotional energy. Magical energy. Magical power. Dumbledore had to put the ring on his finger while Harry stabbed the diary after having "read" it, so to speak. Harry felt unsure what to make of that, and he wished that he could discuss the matter with Hermione.
Harry's heart soared with these realizations. He now had some idea as to what to do when (and if) he located a horcrux. And better than that, he knew that he could do it, because he had already done it, much like he felt when he produced the patronus by the lake in third year with the help of Hermione's time turner. Dumbledore's words from his letter etched themselves in Harry's mind: "Harry, you have the most raw magical power of any wizard I have ever known, including myself." He remembered the first time anyone had called him a great wizard - Hermione, just before Harry recovered the Philosopher's Stone. He tried his best to convince himself that he really was a powerful wizard, even if he did not feel like one.
"I can throw off the imperious curse. I did push that bead down Voldemort's wand."
The other gem in Dumbledore's notebook was less certain but highly promising. On the last page of the second notebook, written apparently just a day or two before he died, Dumbledore thought he may have found the location of another horcrux, Hufflepuff's Cup. Dumbledore, as Harry knew, kept up with the muggle press, and apparently he read of the unusual nature of an artifact held in a suburban London museum. Apparently this artifact was reputed to have unusual characteristics, causing pain to anyone who touched it and sickening some people who merely walked by it. The museum moved the artifact, described as a medieval silver cup, to a cabinet somewhat removed from the public. Amazingly, according to the notebook, Dumbledore found this item in a London Times edition from twelve years earlier.
How did Dumbledore discover this, Harry wondered, until Harry noticed a final sentence from Dumbledore: "The internet is a wonderful invention."
Dumbledore used the internet? Harry was beyond amazed, as he himself had only a vague idea of what the internet was. Of course he had never even used a computer, Dudley's being strictly off limits. All he knew was that the internet was some new-fangled fad that attracted a lot of nerds and that it was useful for finding information. Once again, Harry's admiration for the old man, as he had come to call him affectionately, increased dramatically. Dumbledore would not be constrained by wizarding convention.
In any event, the notes provided a great lead which needed to be investigated. Maybe it would result in a dead end, but at least he would be doing something instead of all of this reading and thinking. That is up Hermione's line, not mine, Harry thought. With sadness, he realized that Dumbledore probably would have taken Harry with him to try to retrieve the cup, and if it was in fact the horcrux, to try to destroy it. Harry could not wait to discuss this with Ron and Hermione. This would be their first action "in the field."
The time had finally arrived for Harry to view the two new memories. He did not feel anxious to dive into the pensieve this time, reluctant to see the living Dumbledore again, and Harry toyed with the idea of not viewing the memories at all. After all, Dumbledore wrote that he did not see any importance to them, and if Dumbledore could not discern anything, why should Harry. Curiosity and the fact that Dumbledore wanted him to see the memories finally prevailed. The first memory shone a pale silver in the vial, as Harry carefully poured it into the pensieve. Taking a deep breath, he touched his nose to the silvery substance and immediately fell into Dumbledore's memory.
Harry found himself standing on a depressing street a few paces behind a much younger Professor Dumbledore, who looked to be perhaps ten years older than when he first met Tom Riddle at the orphanage. Despite the different era of the scene, Harry recognized the street right away - Knockturn Alley. Dumbledore strode forcefully down the center of the alley, and Harry did not have a chance to focus on the surroundings, but Knockturn Alley did not appear terribly different than now, he thought, and he knew that they were passing a number of, shall we say, unusual characters. One man walking menacingly in the other direction had the appearance of a vampire, but when he saw Dumbledore, the vampire's countenance dramatically changed. As they approached each other, Dumbledore slowed.
"Cassius, what a pleasant surprise to see you here," spoke the professor brightly, though Harry could not miss the hint of disdain in his voice.
"Professor," the vampire nodded in a grudging greeting, "I must say I am surprised to see you here." Vampires' voices were dark and silky and always made Harry shiver.
"My duties do occasionally require me to visit less picturesque places, Cassius, but I am pleased to report that my task here has been completed, and I will be leaving this byway to those who take greater comfort in it." Perhaps Dumbledore felt some discomfort here, but he looked as calm and pleasant as if strolling along a beach on a pleasant day.
"Yes, well, I shall not detain you then. Good day," quickly replied Cassius, whom Harry could plainly see was nervous, and whose eyes involuntarily darted to his right and behind him twice during their brief conversation. Cassius sped away, and Dumbledore looked after him with a grim expression.
Dumbledore continued on his way when Harry recognized the store front of Borgen and Burkes, which had hardly changed a bit in many decades. Harry thought that the professor would enter the shop, since Tom Riddle was employed there for a short time after his graduation from Hogwarts. Instead he continued striding, with Harry rushing to keep up while trying to look around. Then suddenly from around a corner walked Tom Riddle, who appeared to be about the same age as he was in the memory at the old lady's house. Clearly Tom already was highly regarded in the underworld known as Knockturn Alley, based on how he strutted down the middle of the street, which opened up for him almost magically as other pedestrians shuffled out of his way. Dumbledore, of course, did not, and Riddle appeared upset at the perceived slight until he realized who stood in front of him.
Unlike the vampire, Tom Riddle at the approximate age of twenty did not back down from his former professor, but Harry saw that he quickly placed an item in his right hand into the pocket of his robe. Harry could not see what it was; perhaps an item of jewelry purchased on behalf of his employer. Dumbledore's expression sounded more severe than usual and he initiated a brief exchange of words.
"Hello Tom. Off to work then?"
Riddle's face remained handsome, yet Harry seemed to notice a difference from the other memory of this part of his life, though he could not put his finger on it.
"That's right," Tom responded, "I have been quite busy lately." He appeared to be tired, as if he had recently exerted himself and was now recovering. The two men eyed each other warily.
"I understand that you have been traveling lately, Tom," Dumbledore inquired. Riddle appeared to be surprised for a moment, but immediately recovered his impassive expression.
"Recently I went on holiday and thought I would experience a bit of the world," he replied vaguely, "you seem to keep yourself well informed of your former students' movements."
"Not all of them, Tom," Dumbledore voiced quietly.
"I must be on my way, Professor," said the young man with an irritated twist of his mouth. Then Harry saw it, unmistakably, a red flash in Riddle's eyes, much stronger than in the old lady memory. Instinctively Harry knew what this meant; Tom Riddle had created another horcrux between the two memories, which must have only been months, or perhaps weeks or days apart. Obviously the process of splitting one's soul had an effect on his appearance, and the repeated creation of horcruxes to come must have continued to disfigure him, until he barely appeared human. In fact, Harry considered, Voldemort barely was a human now, since he only had one-seventh (or perhaps an even smaller fraction) of his soul left. Since so little was known about horcruxes when Tom Riddle conceived his scheme, he could not have known of this side-effect.
The future Lord Voldemort strode confidently away, reaching his hand back into the pocket of the robe and removing the item, a chain dangling from his hand, and Harry knew that the memory had concluded. At this point Harry realized that he had never left a pensieve on his own; he had always been helped out, and for a moment he was not sure what to do. Dumbledore had simply lifted his elbow gently and they rose out together. Harry bent his knees and then slightly jumped, and to his immense relief he felt the now-familiar sensation of being expelled from the pensieve and back into his bedroom.
This memory had not taken long, no more than five minutes. Harry knew what Dumbledore meant. There was something there, just below the surface, which he could not make out. Still, he had learned something, and he returned the memory to its vial and poured the remaining one into the large bowl. From the looks of it, this would be a short memory, as the silvery liquid barely covered the bottom. Taking a breath, Harry again took the pensieve plunge.
In fact the extremely short memory involved no dialogue at all. Professor Dumbledore, who appeared a few years older than in the previous memory, exited a shop on Diagon Alley, carrying a bundle in his arms. This time he strolled casually and in no hurry. Though Harry immediately recognized the location, he marveled at how much Diagon Alley had changed, with many different shops and restaurants from the current version. Many witches and wizards roamed the streets, but Harry noticed nothing unusual. After a few seconds he wondered why Dumbledore had included this memory at all, when suddenly Harry saw him - Lord Voldemort. This was no longer Tom Riddle. His face had clearly transformed. While still human in nature, his eyes had narrowed, and his dry, pale skin stretched across a bony face. The once handsome Head Boy now qualified for a muggle freak show. Dumbledore stopped and gazed in Voldemort's direction, and watched as Voldemort walked out of the bookstore and in the opposite direction, apparently not noticing his former professor. After a few more seconds, the memory ended, and Harry again rose out of the pensieve and back onto the carpeted floor of his bedroom.
It had all happened so quickly, perhaps thirty seconds, that Harry dove into the memory to view it again. Even with the second viewing, the transformation of Tom Riddle to Lord Voldemort frightened Harry, and he had to convince himself that this was in fact the same person, and not some other unpleasant creature of the magical world. Indeed, Dumbledore himself appeared shocked. The professor seemed to consider whether he should catch up with his former student, but for reasons only he knew, did not. Voldemort's manner of walking had transformed as much as his appearance. No longer did he have the stride of a confident, handsome, virile young man. He walked now with a slight limp yet glided away as if barely moving his feet.
This memory, Harry considered after returning to his bedroom, merely confirmed that Tom Riddle had undoubtedly created more horcruxes, as Harry could not see how the transformation could have resulted from only one additional split of his soul.
"Maybe it gets worse with each time," he muttered to himself, "Maybe Voldemort got more than he bargained for." Still, by then Voldemort knew the side effects yet continued creating horcruxes. Immortality mattered more to him than a pretty face.
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Harry again roamed the streets of Little Whinging considering all of the new information since his meeting with McGonagall. On one hand, Harry felt relief. At least he had a place to start, and from there, well, he would just have to adjust to whatever fate delivered. On the other hand, he felt semi-paralyzed with fear. The time had come to leave Privet Drive.
On his bench at the park, Harry verified that no one was around and then spoke to the air, "Who is here watching me?"
"Me again, Harry," replied Tonks.
"Can you show yourself so that we can talk? Try not to look too conspicuous," Harry added knowing the unconventional taste of the metamorphagus.
Tonks must have ducked behind a bush to take off the invisibility cloak and then walked towards Harry's bench with a smile. Her hair was spiked with four or five different colors streaked through it, red and yellow and who knows what more.
"I asked you to be inconspicuous, Tonks," sighed Harry, though he could not suppress a grin.
"I am," replied Tonks, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Professor McGonagall said I should contact Lupin when I wanted to leave, but I thought I could talk to you." Harry paused. "I'm ready to go."
"Great, Harry. What time should we come for you tomorrow?"
"How about 11:00 in the morning. My aunt and uncle will be gone, and I'm sure they would rather not be there when you come. I'll let them know tonight that I'm going, that way they can prepare for the big celebration party," joked Harry with bitterness.
"OK, Harry. I'll make the arrangements. Where will you be going?" asked Tonks.
"Grimmauld Place first," replied Harry, and Tonks nodded her understanding. They said their goodbyes and Tonks walked away to put on the invisibility cloak again.
The young wizard stood up and observed the park that he may never see again. It was about the only place he liked around Privet Drive, but he could not honestly say he would miss it. The time had come.
As Harry directed himself back one last time to 4 Privet Drive, one thought ran through his head, "The game is on."