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Three twelve-year-olds are gathered in a bathroom, copying a diagram from a book onto the floor in chalk.
"Do you know what all this writing means?" asks the green-eyed boy.
"No," says the bushy-haired girl, "and that worries me too, but we need to find out who the Heir of Slytherin is and this ritual is the best we've got."
Eventually, one or another of them draws the last bit of the outer circle.
This one looks like pinkish gloop and smells sort of like cinnamon and sort of like watermelons, but the signage implies it's a specific kind and other kinds exist. The ones he buys come with little cards with dosing information and how long they take to kick in and wear off.
He reads all the concerning little cards. "These are legal? I'm never drinking coffee I don't make myself again."
"I mean, I could drug people? But, one, I'm not going to, two, if someone drugs me and it's just a normal non-magical drug it will not work."
"You're very welcome." And they can make their vaguely unpleasant teleport back to the school.
He can make a sizeable dent in the collection, at least the parts that cover magical history, culture, and zoology rather than practical skills he can't learn, by the time Dumbledore sends him another note. It's vaguely and cryptically worded, but in context it means that Harry has gotten pretty good at Occlumency and they're ready to try to take the bit of Riddle out of his face.
Assuming the note also contains information about when and where they should meet for this, Cam turns up.
That much at least Dumbledore is capable of putting in plain English. Harry is there too, looking nervous in a "let's get this over with" way.
"Thank you for joining us. I believe young Harry is now able to contain the fragment of Tom Riddle entirely within his scar. I hope you will be able to confirm this, and extract it safely."
"Let me check," says Cam agreeably, and he does some very fine-grained conjurations for the that-one-over-there location of Tom Riddle. Any skull or brain inclusions?
Harry shuts his eyes and concentrates, and once he's doing so the Riddlebit includes a little disk of skull but no brain.
"Okay. I'm going to anesthetize you, check again, then stick a string to your scar so I can interpolate and pull at the same time. When I replace the area do you want to keep the scar for cosmetic reasons or no?"
"It would be nice if people couldn't recognize me, but if people see it gone they'll ask all kinds of questions . . . But I think I want rid of it anyway."
"Gone it is. Do you want me to warn you or do you want it over before you know it's underway?"
Harry looks surprised that it genuinely didn't hurt. He runs his fingers over his newly smooth forehead, then stares at the extracted chunk. "Woah."
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