PART THREE

Days passed in Diagon Alley, not much different from the last time Harry was there.

The first few days were spent acquiring the necessary school supplies. He was bogged down with new books, ready to teach him what he needed for his OWLs.

He spent a lot of time at Florean Fortescue's where he was plied with as much ice cream as he could eat. He basked in the sun, reading book after book.

Hedwig had not yet returned with a response from Sirius. Harry hadn't gotten any post.

On one bright morning, a week before school, Harry was awaken by the sound of hooting at his window.

Getting up and stretching, he got his glasses. Hedwig was perched on the sill, a letter on her leg. Harry gave her a quick pat, grabbing the response from Sirius. He quickly unfolded the parchment, reading the letter:

Harry,

Sorry about the Muggles. We'll have to figure out another arrangement for you for next summer. I don't like the idea of you staying alone in Diagon Alley. You should be okay there for the rest of the summer though.

I can't really tell you what Moony and I are doing. I honestly don't think it would make you feel any better.

Believe me, if something were wrong, we would tell you.

~Snuffles

Harry scowled, crumpling the letter. Not content with that, he ripped it to shreds. There had to be SOMETHING going on. Lord Voldemort had risen! Was he really doing nothing?

After getting dressed and eating breakfast, Harry left the Leaky Cauldron. He entered Diagon Alley and began to aimlessly walk.

He was angry. At Sirius, for not giving any information. At Ron and Hermione, for keeping him at the Dursleys. Most of all, he was angry with Professor Dumbledore. This isolation Harry was stuck in, Of course it was the design of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry stopped halfway down the Alley. He turned his head up to the building. It was on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Unlike the other buildings, there was nothing fantastic about it. It was a cobblestone building with no windowfront. A small sign read in small, black script: Hall of Records.

He had never paid attention to this building before. He figured it some boring depository that only Hermione would like.

Steeling himself, Harry went inside. If he wanted information, he was going to have to get it himself.

The building was one room crammed with shelves. Each shelf was crammed with hundreds of parchments. A lone witch sat at a desk wedged between two of the shelves. She looked in dire need of sunlight. A pair of glasses was perched on her nose. She sorted through piles of parchment. A brass nameplate on the desk read 'J. Forrest'.

"Um, excuse me," Harry said, approaching the desk. "Miss Forrest..."

Miss Forrest looked up. Her eyes momentarily flicked to Harry's scar. "May I help you?"

"What kind of records do you keep here?"

"We have records of everything that has ever happened," the witch replied, gesturing to the shelves. "Daily Prophets; family trees; handfasting, birth and death certificates. We keep everything."

"Can anyone look through the records?"

Rising from her seat, Miss Forrest smiled. "Why, Mr. Potter.... That is why we are here."

Harry's throat when dry. It took him a moment before he could speak. "I'd... I'd like to read about Lord V-- You-Know-Who."

Miss Forrest blinked. "There are over 5,000 entries related You-Know-Who, dating back to 1958. Would you like to narrow your search parameters?"

"Since June, 1995."

Miss Forrest blinked again. "There are no entries."

Harry furrowed his brow. He looked around the shelves. He ran to one, searching through the parchments. "There must be something."

"There are no entries on You-Know-Who from June, 1995 to the present. Please do NOT touch the shelves."

"Could there be records that aren't here?" Harry asked, dropping parchments he held.

"If it is not here, it does not exist." Scowling, Miss Forrest picked up the parchments that were spread on the floor. "Would you care to make another inquiry?"

"The Potter family."

There was another blink. "There are 4,567 entries related to the Potter family, dating back to 150 AD."

It was Harry's turn to blink. "My family history goes back that far?"

"Would you like to narrow your search parameters?" Miss Forrest finished organizing the parchments, setting them back on the shelf.

"The last... Forty years."

Miss Forrest blinked once again. "Your search has been narrowed to 200 related entries. Would you like every entry?"

"Yes." He then remembered the Tri-Wizard Tournament. "Except for the articles from the Daily Prophet by Rita Skeeter."

Miss Forrest walked to her desk. "Bring all entries on the Potter family, from 1955 to present, excluding entries by Skeeter, Rita."

Harry could hear creatures skittering around, but he saw nothing. Parchments were then neatly pulled from the shelves and placed on the desk.

"Huh?" Harry asked as more parchments were put down.

"House-Elves. They archive every entry." Miss Forrest tapped her head. "I can keep all of the information up here. However, it's impossible for me to physically acquire all the entries."

Harry couldn't conceive Madame Pince letting House-Elves run around her library, even if they were helpful. She held such a tight reign over the library. The only people who ever worked in there were a few students who needed extra money for tuition.

Soon, there was a huge pile of parchments on the desk and the clay pot covered itself. "Your query has been filled. Please do not remove any entries from the archive." She waved a wand, a small chair and desk appearing between one of the stacks. "Read at your leisure."

Harry sat down at the desk, sorting through the parchments provided to him. Most of them were death certificates, most listing 'cursing' as the cause of death.

Had Voldemort wiped out his entire family? Why was Voldemort so interested in the Potter clan?

He paused when he came upon a yellowing parchment:

Harry smiled sadly. That was only a few days ago. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, his parents would have been celebrating their seventeenth anniversary.

Until today, Harry hadn't known when his parents got married. He hadn't even known his mum's maiden name! Aunt Petunia had never mentioned it. There was Sirius' name, listing him as best man. The woman listed... Had that been his mum's best friend from school days? A tear slid down his face. He wiped it away furiously. He didn't want to get so emotional.

He had enough. He didn't want to sort through these records anymore. There was nothing here. No information about why Voldemort had been after his family.

Rising, he accidentally knocked a Daily Prophet clipping off the pile. It fluttered to the ground. "I'm finished," He murmured to Miss Forrest.

Miss Forrest walked to the desk. "I hope you found what you were looking for, Mr. Potter."

Harry strode towards the door, while Miss Forrest shook her head. She looked at the heading on the clipping in her hand. It was dated August, 1979: