The next few days passed by in a blur for Harry. He scoured the Black library, reading anything he thought would help him but found all books said the same; without Tom, Harry would eventually die, and sooner rather than later. He had also found more information on soul bonds that had him thinking more into it. It was written soulmates could not deliberately kill one another; this made Harry wonder about what had really happened that night when Voldemort had come for him and killed his parents.
Dumbledore had claimed that it was the power of his mother's love that had saved Harry - he had preached this fact ever since Harry had met him, using it as an example of the power of light magic. Yet, now Harry wondered if his supposed defeat of the Dark Lord was really down to his attempt on Harry's life.
By trying to deliberately kill his bonded, Voldemort ended up killing himself. That would also explain the last battle, in that final duel Voldemort died after their wands had locked and his own killing curse reverted in on itself. Harry didn't think anybody really understood that, and he wasn't exactly waiting to tell them.
This also made Harry wonder about how it was possible for Tom to not realise just who Harry was, unless, of course, he had his bond blocked like Harry had. This created more questions for Harry, as never before had somebody deliberately blocked a soul bond, Harry was unsure about how to find out if Tom had had his blocked.
It would possibly be one explanation for his behaviour Harry mused; it couldn't have been easy having the bond blocked for so long; having such a vital part locked away, it was no wonder he went insane. Add to the fact his horcruxes would have continued to rip away at his already blocked soul? Harry thought, retrospectively, that it was surprising how sane Voldemort was by then end, which was saying something as he was completely nuts.
Even with these realisations, Harry was still lost on what to do now. Honestly, he was tired. He now knew it was probably his broken bond making him feel like this, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing that was keeping him going was his desire for revenge; revenge for himself and for the boy Tom Riddle had once been. It was Dumbledore he wished he could make pay, but with him already dead he would settle for his pawns - he just had to find them.
On the day Pig arrived, carrying a letter Harry easily identified to be from Ron judging by the chicken scratch writing, Harry felt a slight maniacal glee. He hadn't yet planned out his revenge but he wanted to test the waters so to speak. He knew that Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley were a part of Dumbledore's plans, and he planned on finding out if they acted alone today.
During the week he had Kreacher help him measure his new body and had sent off for some new clothing. The rich clothes made Harry look every inch the lord he was and Harry couldn't wait to see the reaction they had on the Weasley family.
"Hello, Pig," Harry said, taking the letter from the small bird. He couldn't bring himself to hurt the poor creature, no matter whom he belonged to. "Why don't you go have a rest while I get ready? There's no rush for you to get back," he instructed. Although not as smart as Hedwig, the bird seemed to understand and, with a quick nuzzle to Harry's hand, he took flight to an owl perch Harry had conjured with a wave of his hand.
Over the week, Harry had found his magic settling and he found it easy to perform magic non-verbally and sometimes wandlessly.
The letter, like Harry knew it would be, was asking for Harry to come round for lunch today. Setting it on fire without a thought after he had finished reading, Harry smirked and stood with a stretch.
Going upstairs, Harry put on a pair of black dragonhide trousers and a white shirt, over which he wore a dark emerald green robe. Wearing his robe open, Harry looked in the mirror; although simple enough, the outfit was a far cry away from what he used to wear.
The clothes fit him like a glove and were obviously high quality without being overly fancy. Looking in the mirror, Harry decided to glamour his facial features to match the ones that Dumbledore's glamour gave him and changed his hair back to the bird's nest it used to be; there was no point in letting on that he knew anything about Dumbledore's manipulations too early.
"Kreacher," Harry summoned, waiting for the elf to appear. "I will be going to the Weasleys for lunch."
Kreacher nodded his head in understanding, withholding his comments like his master had asked; although, he did get the impression his master no longer liked the blood traitors.
Harry, finally ready, stepped into the floo and called out, "The Burrow."
The Burrow, 9th June 1998
Stepping out of the floo with as much grace as he was able, which was not much, Harry's arrival was met with immediate silence.
"Bloody hell mate, why are you dressed like some fancy pureblood tosser for?" Ron's voice rang out after a few seconds.
Smirking internally Harry used his wand to clean the dust from himself as Mrs. Weasley let out a squawk before bellowing, "Ronald Weasley!"
"What Ron means to say," Hermione said, shooting Ron an obvious look that had Harry wondering if part of his compulsion spells had him being oblivious to their blatant lies, "is that you look very different, Harry."
Ron, who was staring at Harry like he had grown another head, nodded, "Yeah, I mean your clothes…." he trailed off.
Harry tried to look nonchalant. "I thought I would try something new," is all he said, resulting in another silence.
"Well, you look very nice dear," Mrs. Weasley said eventually.
"Yes, Harry," agreed Ginny, who suddenly plastered herself to his arm. 'He really does look great,' she thought.
Trying not to snarl at her touch, Harry smiled tightly. "How have you all been?" he asked, trying to surreptitiously remove himself from Ginny's clutches.
Listening as they spoke about how hard it was without Fred, Harry felt a pang of guilt - not towards them, but to George. He was sure the twins were not in on Dumbledore's plans and he felt bad for not checking in on him. Harry had been surprised when he had read a book on Wizarding customs and gotten to the death chapter; in traditional Wizarding customs, a family usually held a funeral within days, yet he had heard nothing about a funeral for Fred.