When one door closes... - Part 6

Harry's eyes widened as the walls began to shift outward, enlarging the room to nearly double its original size. Quickly, Hermione transfigured Ron's conjured camp bed into a duplicate of his bed at Hogwarts. "There," Hermione said with an air of satisfaction.

"My aunt is going to flip," Harry said with glee.

"The house won't appear any different from the outside, so it's only if they come in here that they'll notice," Hermione said.

"Oh, believe me, Aunt Petunia will be sticking her head in. I'm certain the curiosity over what we're doing up here is killing her," Harry said grimly.

Hermione bit her lip. "She won't be angry, will she?"

"Of course she will," Harry said happily. "Not only did we perform magic, but now my room is nicer than Dudley's. She'll despise it."

Hermione frowned. "That certainly can't be a reason, Harry. She doesn't like the magic, but she's coming around now because of Dudley."

"Okay," he replied. He knew Hermione was only setting herself up for disappointment. He only hoped his relatives wouldn't be too hard on her. He didn't want to see them hurt her; she was truly trying to help. He could handle the snubs – he'd had loads of practice – but he wasn't about to let them take out their prejudice on her.

After few days...

Their days at Privet Drive passed slowly, and Harry felt the stirrings of restlessness growing within him as they approached the day they would leave forever. He felt as if he were wound tight as a drum and plunged himself into the books that Hermione had brought back from Diagon Alley in an attempt at distraction.

He'd been having trouble sleeping, and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes. Each night when he'd try to settle down to sleep, thoughts and vague memories would churn in his head, and he couldn't turn them off.

The locket, the cup, the snake, and something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw…

At times, he felt confident and ready to rush out and begin the hunt. The forced confinement grated on his nerves, and he was certain he'd worn a layer off his teeth from grinding them. At other times, the task at hand appeared so overwhelming that he felt hopeless and full of despair. The fake horcrux that he always kept in his pocket seemed to mock him.

It was at these times that he'd retreat into himself, growing distant and increasingly quiet. He could see the concerned glances shared between Ron and Hermione when they thought he wasn't looking, but he pretended not to notice and continued with his research.

Hermione had set him the task of writing down everything he could remember from the pensieve memories that Professor Dumbledore had shown him, in addition to any comments that the headmaster might have made about Tom Riddle. They hoped for some clues that

could help them narrow their search.

He'd placed a charm on his notes similar to the Marauder's map so that no one else would be able to read back what he'd written. The phrase he'd chosen as his password: I solemnly swear I'm up to some kick-arse good.

Actually, the kick-arse part had been Ron's idea, and the two boys had chuckled over it for so long that Hermione had left the room in a huff. Ron's task had been to scour old Hogwarts lists in an attempt to locate the mysterious R.A.B., but he claimed it was hopeless.

Hermione spent her time looking for references of horcruxes, which thus far had proved futile. It seemed no one in the wizarding world wanted to discuss them.