Disclaimer: Everything, everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing the characters for short while.

A/N: Apologies for posting this chapter several months late. I had a few things going on, and didn't really have time to write. Hopefully now, I'll start posting regularly. R&R, and let me know what you think!

Chapter 6

Harry went straight to the Come and Go Room. It was time to start implementation of Part One of his plan. Arriving in front of the room, Harry specifically thought for the Room of Hidden Things. Upon entering the room, he made a beeline towards the location of Ravenclaw's Diadem. He found an old but relatively strong jute sack nearby, in which he dumped the diadem. He walked a bit and looked around, resolving to comb the vast room later to see if he could find anything interesting.

Thinking about where to keep the sack, Harry decided that the Room was his best choice. Few people knew about its whereabouts and presence, and no one would come specifically looking for the diadem or Horcruxes. Putting a simple Notice-me-not charm on the sack, he left it stacked with the other objects. Making sure that it wasn't directly visible to the naked eye, Harry summoned Dobby.

"Dobby!" called Harry, and the little elf appeared immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Mast…Harry be calling Dobby?" said Dobby, hastily correcting himself.

"Yes, Dobby. I need you to apparate me to Diagon Alley," said Harry, nodding approvingly at Dobby's changing attitude.

Harry was now starting with Horcrux hunting, but before beginning his quest, he had some errands in Knockturn Alley. He figured no one would stalk him at Hogwarts, least of all Weasley and Granger. Barty Crouch Jr was busy handling Dumbledore and Voldemort at the same time, and the aging Headmaster wasn't showing his usual unhealthy interest in Harry's life, although the old man did seem somewhat suspicious of Harry's attitude.

Dobby took Harry's hand, and took him to Charing Cross Road. Harry's first stop was Gringotts, where he withdrew a few hundred galleons and sickles. Harry decided to check in with Gorrak later, since it was too soon to ask for results, and he had other things to do.

Stopping to consider for a moment, Harry stepped in a nearby empty alley, and pulling out his wand, he transfigured his clothes into a pitch-black robe and an ominous looking hood. Nothing too attention-seeking or sinister; he just wanted to be as discreet as possible. After all, he had work in Knockturn Alley, and he had to blend in with the usual folks of the place.

Harry knew that his underage Trace and the Tracking Charms on the wand would fail, as Diagon Alley and its surrounding areas were packed with old magic, interwoven and blended in with the magical premises. So, any random event of magic would be brushed off as normal. He applied several glamour charms on his face, making his cheeks and chin wrinkly, and his bright green eyes turned coal black.

Soon, a black robed, black hooded figure, emitting a faint aura was walking on the yellowish, broken and age-old tiles of Knockturn Alley. The hags and the dirty old men in the alley didn't give him a second look; they were used to seeing unusual folks daily.

Harry whisked from shop to shop, taking long strides with a rigid stance. Gravel cracked slightly and stones crumbled under his magical strength, but Harry took no notice as he searched for one specific shop. He found it at last; it was an old, derelict structure, with a shabby look. Almost all shops in Knockturn were dilapidated, but this one was seedier than most. The tiled roof was blackened and covered with ivy; the walls were chipped and mossy, and the windows were tainted with dirt. Above the wooden door, was a nearly faded-out sign that said Adley's Wands.

Wandless magic was not exactly Harry's forte. While he could cast simple stunners, disarming and summoning charms without a wand, it used up too much magical energy and was extremely taxing. He needed to build up his magical strength before he could resort to wandless magic during combat.

Ollivander sold wands that were actively tracked by the Ministry, more specifically the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE). It seemed that the Ollivander family had an old tie-up with the DMLE, and received a quarterly stipend for providing information about all the wands that it sold.

Even though Adley's had no such tie-up, its loyal customers, who were also some of the most high-up conservative purebloods from the Ministry, kept the shop running by pulling some strings. Few people ventured into Knockturn Alley, and fewer wandered to go as deep as Adley's, which was why so less people knew about the place.

Staring at the signboard for a moment, Harry pushed open the door and entered the shop. The inside of the shop looked, if possible, even more dusty and unkempt than the outside. Harry stood in a large, poorly-lit hall, that was lined with rows and rows of shelves and cabinets. A wooden table stood in the centre of the room, covered with heaps of scrolls. Pieces of wood littered the moth-eaten carpet covering the floor, which was also covered with old potion stains. At the far end of the room, another doorway lead to the inner rooms of the shops.

Harry didn't have to wait too long; a man came into the room after a minute or two. Harry knew who he was, of course. He was Martin Adley, belonging to a long line of wandmakers from the Adley family. They'd been around since the 1400s, staying into obscurity, serving only to a select group of customers.

Martin Adley was a wizened old man in his seventies; he wore an old set of robes which looked like it was hundreds of years old, and a tattered old straw hat, which looked quite odd on him. It seemed like he hadn't left his shop in years (and he probably hadn't); so wrinkly was his face that his expression was almost masked. But it was his eyes that stood out; startling blue orbs that peered in the depths of your soul; watching, observing, judging.

"How may I help you?" said Mr. Adley in a soft voice, gazing steadily at Harry.

"I'm here to purchase a wand," said Harry, in a deep, gravelly voice, having applied a charm on his vocal cords.

A pair of brilliant blue eyes peered at him, emotionless, apathetic. Harry wondered if the old fellow would serve customers other than the ones he usually catered to. His questions were soon answered.

"Very well. Let's get you sorted, shall we?" said Mr. Adley cryptically, summoning a few boxes from a nearby shelf. Harry masked his surprise, having believed that the old man would have refused, and nodded.

Adley had a different method of assigning wands, quite unlike Ollivander, who made a garish show of foolish wand-waving and prattling about all the wands he'd sold in the past. Adley's philosophy about wands was almost completely opposite to that of Ollivander's. While the latter said, 'The wand chooses the wizard', the former said, 'The wizard chooses how his wand shall be.' Ollivander had pre-made wands, whereas Adley made custom wands depending on the customers' magic. In his previous life, Harry had discovered the existence of the shop at the onset of the 22nd century, by which time Knockturn Alley was almost entirely shut down by the Ministry.

"Expand your magic, and point me the wood that best matches your magic," said Mr. Adley quietly. Harry nodded again, calmed his breath, closed his eyes and slowly reached out with his magic. He felt a slight tug on his magic, and reached out slowly to the source, feeling a block of wood quite cool to touch.

"Blackthorn," said Adley in the same low voice, his expression neutral. He studied Harry for a moment, his face inscrutable, then summoned a small cabinet. He opened the lid, and it turned out to be a bottomless cabinet.

"Place your wand arm over the cabinet opening, and let your magic flow through your fingers," said Adley, his blue eyes fixed on Harry. The raven-haired wizard did as he was told, and suddenly two small glass spheres popped out from inside the cabinet, right into Adley's waiting hand.

"Powered Basilisk fang and Nundu heartstring," muttered Adley, an unrecognisable look on his wrinkly face. "Perfect for Battle Magic, Transfiguration and Charms. A very powerful merger of potent substances, if I may say so."

He turned towards Harry, and murmured in a raspy voice, "This wand will take awhile to make. About an hour."

"In that case, I'll return in one hour," said Harry, concealing his wonder at the odd combination of the wand core. Because of its sheer complexity, wandlore hadn't been one of Harry's strongest subjects in his past life. But he had sufficient knowledge to appreciate the peculiar blend of materials that would make his future wand.

Stepping out of the shop, Harry walked for sometime and reached an apothecary, where he obtained the anti-Trace Draught (which was a tad too expensive). The shopkeeper had eyed him suspiciously, but didn't raise too many questions. Probably because he was used to too many shady dealings.

Harry then made his way to The White Wyvern, Knockturn's only pub. Compared to the other ramshackle establishments of the alley, this one was fairly neat and tidy. It was darker and dodgier than The Leaky Cauldron, but was alright in Harry's eyes. Feeling hungry, he had some food in the pub, ignoring a few thickset men sitting in the corner, who were leering at him.

Soon, he was back at Adley's, where the old wandmaker informed him that his wand was ready. Twelve and a half inches Blackthorn, with a core made of powered Basilisk fang and a Nundu Heartstring. It was a sleek and thin, obsidian black masterpiece, with a rune inscribed at the non-business end. Adley spoke up.

"Place a drop of your blood on the rune to bind the wand to you."

Harry accepted a small, stylish dagger from Adley, and made a miniscule incision on his ring finger, allowing a drop to fall on the rune. The wand glowed blue and vibrated for a moment, before stopping.

Harry took hold of his wand, and the new magical connection felt incredible, as a marvellous warmth shot up his gut, and sparks flew out of the wand, his body aglow.

Adley watched him silently, his blue eyes focussed on him unwaveringly. Harry couldn't figure out why the old fellow was staring at him so much, but he cleared his throat.

"I'd also like a wand holster."

Adley gave him a nod, and fetched a standard, wooden holster to be worn on the arm.

"How much for the wand and the holster?"

Adley replied, "Forty-three galleons and ten sickels."

"Awfully pricey, that."

"'Tis a customized wand, sir. They're always costlier."

Harry grumbled, but coughed up nonetheless. His trust vault was depleting fast, and the family vault had very little money to refill it, which was why he was being so thrifty.

"Thank you," said Harry, and was about to leave the shop, when he heard Martin Adley speak.

"You are older than you look. Much, much older."

Harry stilled, his hand at the doorknob. He turned slowly, his eyes landing on the old wandmaker.

"What do you mean?"

Adley regarded him for a moment, his eyes shining in a strange light, then replied, "A phoenix you are, dying and rising again from the ashes. A wisdom that exceeds the wisest, a power that defies normalcy. Blessed will be those, who shall be loved and protected by you. May your enemies cower at your feet."

Harry's expression was blank, his mind was in a whirl. Who (or rather what) was this man? Green eyes narrowed, ready to use Legilimency on the blue ones.

Adley had probably sensed his uneasiness, because he said, "Please don't be alarmed. I'm an empath, sir. Your name and identity are unknown to me. I just spoke my mind. I was just…taken by surprise when you entered my shop. That is all."

Harry calmed his breathing, comprehending what the man was saying. He stared back at Adley, a slightly hard look in his eyes.

"I value your secrecy in this matter, Mr. Adley. I never visited your shop."

"I never betray any customer, sir. Rest assured, our business never happened."

And somehow, Harry felt like he could trust the man. He was hesitant to leave the matter so easily, but relented. He was about to leave when again, Adley spoke up; this time his voice was stronger.

"Good luck to you, sir."

Nodding in gratitude, Harry left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Boy-Who-Lived was back at the Room of Requirement, testing the new wand. So far, it was perfectly compatible with his magic. He'd been to the Hogwarts kitchens sometime ago for a quick lunch, deciding against going to the Great Hall for lunch. He had to get his plan into motion first, before taking the next leap. Baby steps, Potter. Baby steps.

He'd pushed the conversation with Adley to the back of his mind, his thoughts centralizing on his next mission. He'd already consumed some of the anti-Trace Draught, which would last a couple of hours. Stuffing his Invisibility Cloak in his pocket, he picked up his new wand, and called Dobby.

"Dobby, please take me to a point outside the anti-Apparation wards of Hogwarts."

"Yes, Harry," squeaked Dobby, and taking Harry's hand, disapparated from the Room with a pop.

They reappeared in a small clump of trees, just off the Forbidden Forest. Harry thanked Dobby, and the elf disappeared away.

Harry's next mission was to obtain the Ring Horcrux, located at the Gaunt Shack near Little Hangleton. Harry had personally never been to the shack; he just remembered a fleeting glimpse from Bob Ogden's memories from his previous life, which was enough for him to apparate. Focussing on that single image from his past, Harry concentrated, and vanished silently.

He came into sight atop a small hillock. Right before it, a path curved from a thicket of overgrown, irregular bushes to a large, tall grove of trees. Stretching beneath the group of trees, was a little valley that circumscribed the village of Little Hangleton. Right across the village was another hillock, on the slopes of which stood Riddle Manor.

It felt strange to think that a few hundred meters away, his nemesis was nestled inside his hidey-hole in his infantile form, with Nagini slumbering at his feet and Wormtail blubbering somewhere. If Harry could acquire and destroy all Horcruxes before the Third Task, Voldemort could be killed. However, it wasn't an easy task, especially the Cup and the Locket. 'Well, first things first,' thought Harry, ignoring the graveyard, which had been the subject of many nightmares in his past.

Walking down the path, Harry activated his Mage Sight. As soon as the path turned right, Harry felt a tendril of Dark Magic seeping through the nearby foliage. Following the thin line of magic, Harry soon reached a thicket of bushes and trees in the woods, off a dirt track. Proceeding with caution, Harry reached the Gaunt shack.

The dirty old hut was worse than he'd pictured, worse than the house in Ogden's memory. Nailed to the rusty front door, hung a decomposed snake, almost as long as the door. The shack's walls were now jagged and cracked, almost entirely covered by plants, moss and fungi. A part of the roof seemed to be caved in, and the rest of it was covered with ivy. The smell of decay and death was strong, and so was the feeling of despair. The brambles and branches overhead the shanty cast shadows, making it seemingly lonelier than it was. Indeed, the place seemed like it was held together with magic. However, that's not what made Harry pause.

The whole place reeked with vileness. The ground was practically vibrating with a forceful, negative intensity, and the air hummed with darkness. Harry's Mage Sight enabled him to see that the shack was covered with a purplish-green dome of Parsel Magic, shimmering and rippling at its curvature. Parsel Magic inherently wasn't either good or bad, just like several other magical branches. This wasn't magic cast by eighteen-year-old Riddle; Voldemort had probably returned sometime in the future to restructure and strengthen the wards.

Whipping out his brand-new wand, he started casting detection spells. There was the normal Muggle-repelling ward, Intent-based ward, a large area Notice-me-not charm, all of which were intertwined into a complex mesh, powered by three ward stones placed in a triangular fashion around the shack. He also found some heavy, arcane charms which could only be countered by Parsel Magic.

The raven-haired wizard scratched his head; he decided to try something different. Taking a deep breath, he hissed in Parseltongue, "I, Lord Voldemort, command the wards to fall on my arrival!" He knew the statement was lame, but he couldn't think of anything else.

The wards remained intact, but something else happened. Sensing a sudden motion from above, Harry snapped his wand and swiftly erected a metallic shield just in time. A gong was heard, then there was silence. Dispelling the shield, Harry saw that it was a giant, African Rock Python, slithering on the ground and poised to strike again. Shaking his head in annoyance, Harry vanished the serpent, focussing on the task at hand.

"Seems like the wards need to be taken down," he mumbled, shuffling over to the ward stones. He began negating and neutralizing the protections, with a combination of Parseltongue spells and cruse-breaking. The neighbouring woods were soon filled with loud, resonant sounds that felt like an odd mix of sonic booms and falling metallic sheets. Harry knew that the place was too secluded for the noise to be heard by anybody.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was drenched in sweat and panting, but satisfied. Making a mental note to keep a stash of pepper-up potions ready in case he needed it, Harry walked into the shack.

The insides were littered with a mass of filth and perished Gaunt chattels, smelling so much of putrefaction and decomposition, that he was forced to put a Bubble-head charm to avoid the fetid smell. Disregarding everything else, he slammed his Occlumency shields and followed his Mage Sight to the loose floorboards in the corner. Pulling open the floorboard, he found the golden box covered with dirt.

Exhaling loudly, Harry cast another detection spell on the box. Determining there was no threat to touch it, he levitated the box, shrunk it, and put it in his pocket. He briskly exited the shack, deciding to deal with the Horcrux later. His foremost priority was to collect them. Walking some distance, he apparated to the same spot which was just outside the anti-Apparation wards of Hogwarts. Calling Dobby, he went to the Room of Requirement and deposited the golden box in the same jute sack where the diadem was present.

Taking a quick, hot shower in a bathroom conjured by the room, he asked the room to summon a bed, and after putting a Time Compression charm, he collapsed on the bed. He fell asleep immediately, both magically and physically exhausted.