A Leather-Bound Treasure

Harry saw Tom narrow his eyes and glare at the man, clearly holding the Mr. Smudgley's lack of observational skills against him, exuding malice in the way he was so good at.

Upon Tom's change in demeanor, the man's eyes snapped open wide and he glanced up at Tom, immediately raking his eyes over his – rather, Miss Jenkins's – slender, delicate, and very feminine form.

"And how may I help you this fine afternoon, ma'am?"

"I need to see your archives," Tom announced curtly.

The man looked up at him, disappointed, as though what he had expected a different request. "Afraid I can't do that...they're not open to the public."

Tom's glare intensified, and Harry felt subtle tendrils of Tom's dark magic seeping out. Tom was powerful, even possessing a muggle. Then came the barely audible whisper, "Imperio."

"I will see those archives, Mr. Smudgley."

The man nodded slowly, his eyes glazed over and a dazed expression having come over his face, and nodded to the right. "Through that door."

Tom nodded curtly. "Do not inform anyone of our presence."

The room was dusty, though not unclean – it had a high ceiling, and the rows and rows of shelves nearly rose to its full height; Harry immediately concluded that it was magic, not sound construction, that kept the shelves, nearly bursting with filed Daily Prophet issues, standing. They were sorted by year – going back to 1785 – and Tom quickly located the section he was looking for.

"1981?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded. "I've spent enough time uninformed of the events following my demise. Now, do you remember the list of names I had you memorize?"

Harry nodded. "Avery, Carrow, Crabbe, Dolohov, Goyle, Karkaroff, Lestrange, Malfoy, Macnair, Mulciber, Nott, Rosier, Yaxley."

"Good. Now those," he pointed to a pile of papers at the bottom of the shelf. "Are court records. I want you to search them, and bring me the ones referring to any of those names."

Harry saluted, and immediately got to work.

By the time they finished at the Daily Prophet, Harry had read through all the court records for the Death Eater trials that took place in 1981 and 1982. The whole ordeal had been something of a success; Tom was pleased that he now had an idea of what had occurred in the wizarding world since his departure, and was very happy with Harry's own progress. He now knew which of his Death Eaters were in Azkaban and which weren't.

"You did very well, Harry. I think you deserve a reward."

Harry's eyes brightened. "Really?"

Tom nodded. "Come, I know of a place you'll like very much."

Tom led him down yet another crowded path through Diagon Alley, until they reached a busy looking bookshop going by the name Flourish and Blotts.

A grin stretched across Harry's face. Books. Tom meant to buy him books.

"You can pick out one book."

Harry pouted. "Just one?"

"Maybe two," Tom conceded, as he opened the door for Harry.

Once inside, Harry was hard pressed not to let out a squeal of glee – for he was surrounded, nigh suffocated in mountains, thousands of books. Harry had spent quite a bit of time at the library, so he was quite skilled at and accustomed to navigating treacherous paths through mountains of books, but he wasn't quite prepared for this – there were books everywhere; and what was more, he didn't even understand most of the titles. It was thrilling.

"Where should I start?"

A subtle smile crossed Tom's face as he radiated amusement. "That would be telling."

Harry scowled at him.

"Now, there is one more thing I must attend to." He grabbed Harry's hand and dropped into it a handful of galleons. "Buy as many books as you want."

"I thought you said -"

"I changed my mind."

Harry smiled triumphantly.

"Now, I will be back in about an hour."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Where are you going?"

"That is not your concern. Stay out of trouble."

And with that, Tom, who Harry had started calling Miss Riddle in his head, disappeared out the door, leaving Harry in what was possibly the most fantastic place he had ever been to.

There were so many books Harry saw that might come in handy, like Hogwarts, a History, which looked quite informative, or The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, another massive history text. In the end, he decided against those ones...they looked rather heavy, and he'd read enough history lately. Reading about the Holocaust in the detail Tom had demanded had really turned him off of history for the time being. Perhaps another time.

He was very fascinated by some of the titles that implied more applied knowledge, like 1001 Ways to Get Revenge without Landing Yourself in Azkaban: a Comprehensive Dictionary of Hexes and Curses, and another called Curses and Countercurses by Professor Vindictus Viridian. Both sounded very useful indeed. Then there were A Starting Guide to Human Transfiguration and 101 Practical Household Potions, which also sounded exceptionally useful.

There were also some more challenging looking titles, like A Beginner's Guide to Spell Crafting and Combat Magic: An in Depth Analysis of Duelling Techniques. There was also Rudiments of Healing Magic and A Survey of Magical Diseases, all of which sounded incredibly impressive, if not a bit intimidating. There was also Ancient and Rare: a Survey of Little Known Magics from around the World, which he knew he couldn't resist.

In the end, he decided on Curses and Countercurses, A Beginner's Guide to Spell Crafting, and the Rare Magics text.

Once he'd made his decision, he made his way to the counter, gladly parting with the appropriate amount of Galleons (which was close to all of them). In the end, Harry left Flourish and Blotts quite satisfied, and was happy to see Miss Riddle waiting outside.

"Tom! Look what I got!" He all but shoved the three books in his friend's face.

Tom nodded, promptly plucking them out of his hands and examining the covers. "Prudent choices."

"Are you finished with whatever you had to do?"

Tom nodded, reaching into his pea coat and producing a little black leather book. "Over the next seven years, Harry, you will be exposed to a wealth of knowledge. I urge you to let none of it go to waste."

And with that, he handed the little black book to Harry.

"A belated birthday gift."

His first gift - the first real thing anyone had ever given to him. Harry stared at it with adoration, committing to memory every part of it. He ran his fingers over the unspoiled, rich leather, tracing the gold gilded numbers on the back indicating the year.

1990

Carefully, he opened it to the front page, feeling the softness of the pages, and finding, scripted with what was no doubt Tom's spidery handwriting, his name:

H. J. Potter

He loved it. Words couldn't express how much he loved it. Though, it was odd...it looked very familiar, like he'd seen it before. He just couldn't place the image.

....

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