Peering through an inexpensive set of omnioculars, Harry grinned as he watched Bellatrix apparate away from the Blacks' ancestral cemetery. He would have loved to have heard what she had said to her mother and aunt. Perched high in the ruins of Ravenbourgh, Harry shifted his position and zoomed the omnioculars in on Walburga and Druella Black. They were now just recovering from the confrontation with the relatively whiter sheep of the family.
Harry watched from a distance as Walburga helped Druella to her feet. The sisters-in-law had a discussion. Their conversation was heated, but brief. Walburga apparated away. Druella stumbled over to where Narcissa Black was still trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She grabbed Narcissa and double-apparated the both of them away-presumably to their home.
With a small sigh, Harry lowered the omnioculars and checked the time on his watch. The formalities of the funeral had run longer than he had anticipated. He brought the omnioculars back to his eyes and scanned the cemetery and territory surrounding it. With the departure of the last Blacks, there now was nobody present. He deposited the omnioculars in a pocket and proceeded to pick his way through the ruins of Ravenbourgh, eventually climbing down to what had been the ground floor and then through a wall that had once been solid.
Harry stealthily made his way to Cygnus's grave in the cemetery. Upon arriving, he withdrew one of the strongboxes from a pocket and enlarged it to its normal size. He placed it on the ground next to him and then cast a number of spells to dig up the grave, piling the dirt on the other side of the hole from him.
When Harry could see Cygnus's coffin, he reached over with his foot and nudged the strongbox over the edge into the open grave. It hit Cygnus's coffin with a rather loud thud. Harry winced, feeling guilty for damaging the dead wizard's coffin. Shrugging away his guilt, Harry moved the dirt back into the hole and sealed up the grave, placing a number of basic wards to protect his little cache. Feeling more than a little bit obligated to pay his last respects, Harry stood in front of the grave for a few moments before indirectly apparating away to his next destination.
By the time Harry arrived at Privet Drive, the sun had dropped below the horizon. It was not yet completely dark, but it soon would be. Briskly, Harry moved through what had been the neighborhood of his childhood-or rather, what would be the neighborhood he remembered. It was still under construction. A few houses were complete, but most of the neighborhood was either houses under construction or empty lots.
Eventually, Harry arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive. It was half-built. The walls were up and the builder was in the process of putting bricks on the exterior. Harry couldn't remember whether the Dursleys had bought the house new or not, but it didn't really matter for his purposes.
Quietly, Harry walked into the construction site, ducking under the barriers meant to keep the public out. There were not yet any doors, so Harry was unimpeded as he walked into the house and stood in the front hall. He stopped and stared at his cupboard. The plasterboard hadn't been put up yet, so it didn't seem that small.
Sighing sadly at the memories of his childhood and feeling a vague tinge of anger just from thinking about the Dursleys, Harry moved to the fireplace. The hearth and chimney were already complete, though the mantelpiece had yet to be installed.
A wave of Harry's wand prompted the chimney bricks to split open to reveal the shaft. Harry removed another strongbox from one of his pockets, enlarged it, and deposited it into the chimney, about two feet above the fireplace opening. He added a few wards as well as a number of confundus charms and Muggle-repelling charms. His last spell restored the fireplace bricks to their original status. The Dursley's fireplace would never work, and they would never feel the prompting to wonder why. Harry smiled mischievously at this minor prank on the Dursley family even though it likely would never bother them. They had never used the fireplace when he had lived with them.
Harry approached the fireplace, kneeled down and stuck his hand up the chimney. He could feel the box resting just above the opening to the fireplace. Satisfied that it was accessible but protected from people who didn't already know it was there, Harry stood and stepped back.
He apparated again and found himself in a London alleyway. Quickly, he walked to a tube station and then into a public toilet. In a very dirty stall, he used his wand to alter his appearance somewhat drastically before apparating from the bathroom stall to Knockturn Alley.
Harry, disguised as tall, thin, and mean-looking wizard of middle age, appeared in front of the pub known as the Serpent's Fang, which was apparently a location from whence the occasional Death Eater recruited people to do his or her dirty work. Carefully, Harry relaxed his facial muscles and set a dispassionate expression on his temporary face. Harry then strode into the pub and up to the counter behind which the barkeep stood, a bored expression set on his face.
"Firewhiskey," Harry growled in a low voice. He had never been very good at using magic to disguise his voice and thus had opted to do without.
The barkeep looked blankly at Harry, but fulfilled the request. In but a moment, Harry had a tall glass of firewhiskey, and the barkeep had money to cover the drink and a little more.
Harry sipped his firewhiskey undisturbed for a few moments before being approached by one of the regulars, a tough-looking wizard.
"Haven't seen you around," the wizard said.
"I haven't been around," Harry said, attempting to make his voice sound slightly deeper.
"Why not?"