"Were you finished with that?" Bellatrix asked, putting her hand on the edition of the Daily Prophet he had been glancing at between bites of egg, bacon, and potatoes.
Harry looked up and was shocked to see that she was still in a general state of undress. He narrowed his eyes. "Would you like to put some more clothes on, Bellatrix?"
"No, I'm fine," she said, taking the newspaper and sitting down on the other side of the table.
Harry scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and stalked out of the kitchen. Quickly, he checked his appearance in the mirror before gathering a few things. He then proceeded to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Bellatrix called, still eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.
"Out," Harry announced. "See you later."
The closing of the door cut off her reply, undoubtedly a demand to accompany him. That'll show her, Harry smirked. He descended the stairs and exited onto the street. From there, he walked a ways and dodged into an alley from where he apparated to London.
The next several hours were spent wandering around to various government buildings and speaking with Muggle bureaucrats. Their inability to find information or point the way to it was infuriating. Though Harry had never really used a computer in his life, he was beginning to wish that the government of the 1970s had more computers and more digital records.
Eventually, he came across a young lady standing behind a counter who seemed like she might know how Harry could find the information he was seeking. The problem was that she didn't think that strange men lacking Muggle identification should be allowed to ask about the private details of orphans, even if the orphan in question was undoubtedly now an adult.
"Look," said Harry, "I just need to know to which orphanage this particular boy was sent."
"Why?" asked the woman, bringing her hands up to the counter surface and leaning toward Harry, a suspicious look in her eyes.
"It turns out that there is a third cousin on the father's side who passed away just recently. As far as my firm can determine, Mr. Riddle is the nearest living relative who stands to inherit."
"Oh, really? Some long lost uncle left him a fortune, eh? That's original," the woman said snidely, beginning to drum her fingers, ostensibly showing off her wedding ring.
"Actually, it's only about five hundred pounds," Harry said weakly.
"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Polkiss, but we can't just give out that sort of information. It wouldn't be proper."
Harry gritted his teeth and drew his wand, quickly surveying his surroundings to make sure that no one else was watching their exchange. Muttering a spell, he jabbed it at her forehead as she stared at the stick cross-eyed.
"I'm sorry, sir, but that information is simply unavailable," the obnoxious desk clerk lady said dully. "Many records from that time period were lost or are now disorganized, assuming that the information you're seeking was ever recorded. The only option you have is to write to each orphanage in London and inquire whether they know anything of the person for which you are searching."
Bitterly, Harry restrained himself from slapping her hard across the face. If she didn't have access to the information, why had she put Harry through all of the rigmarole of identifying himself and explaining just why he had a legitimate need to know the information?
"Get me a list of and address for every orphanage that was open at the time period," Harry growled.
"Right away, sir," the woman said, retreating.
Harry felt slightly guilty for using the minor compulsion charm on her, but really, it was for a good cause. There would be no lasting effects. Eventually, Harry had the requested list and retreated. He proceeded to a stationery shop where he bought a sheet of paper. In a corner of the shop, he quickly scrawled a generic letter requesting information about Tom Marvolo Riddle.
When the shop owner wasn't looking, Harry rapidly used magic to duplicate the letter. Each copy of the letter was then imbued with a confundus charm of sorts. Whoever read the letter would be extremely cooperative. Harry then visited a post office where he bought the necessary postage and rented a box in which he could receive the replies. With that, the letters were soon on their way.
....
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