Chapter 10- An Inheritance
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all left the den, Ron closing the heavy drapes back over the enchanted windows and Hermione restoring the vase that Ron had knocked over. A giant, black lacquered grandfather clock stood in the main foyer, and by squinting his eyes Harry could just make out the time through the dirty face.
"We'd better get down to the kitchen, it's time for dinner," he said, leading the others down the dark stairwell.
"This meal should be rather festive," Ron said, as they descended the stairs, "Now that Fred and George are here."
"We'll have to re-stock the Butterbeer supply afterwards, again," Hermione said, as they reached the thick door.
Upon entering the kitchen, they found everyone else already there, all conversing noisily. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the cooking area, pointing her wand at pots and pans, causing the water within them to rise to a sudden boil. Then, with a flick of her wand, the dishes all rose and carried themselves to set orderly on the long dining table. The air was thick and hot, carrying the same delicious smells that Harry had smelled earlier; his mouth began to water slightly as he felt a dull pain in his stomach; he was quite hungry. Meanwhile, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood discussing Order business against a wall, glasses filled with red wine. Already congregated around the middle of the table were Fred, George, Bill Weasley, and the dodgy, bandy-legged Mundugus Fletcher. Bill was dressed in a simple striped shirt and brown slacks, red pony-tail draped down behind him and dragon-fang earring dangling from one ear; Mrs. Weasley had tried numerous times, to no avail, to discourage Bill's choice of attire. On the contrary, Mundugus Fletcher was dressed in his signature long, tatty khaki trench coat, the many randomly-placed pockets bulging with knick-knacks; Harry had the faint suspicion that many of the oddly-shaped objects were in some form illegal. Sitting on the end of the table furthest from them, by a roaring fire cracking and adding heat to the already sweltering room was someone Harry had not expected to see until next summer: Mrs. Figg. His batty neighbor was conversing rapidly, with wild gestures and flailing arm movements, with another old lady: Mrs. Longbottom, Neville's Gran. Both ladies had on old gray dresses and had wispy hair pulled back in messy buns. However, unlike Mrs. Figg, who only wore the color gray, Neville's Gran had on her crazy stuffed-vulture hat with a bright-red handbag. Harry suppressed a laugh as he remembered seeing Neville's boggart Snape dressed in those clothes during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class in his third year.
Ron nudged Harry with his elbow and tilted his head in Mrs. Figg's direction as he muttered, "Wonder who that is?"
"Oh, that's Mrs. Figg. You know, the lady from Privet Drive. I guess she did not show up today because she was busy doing something here," Harry said.
Hermione, who was standing on the other side of Harry, looked in the direction Harry and Ron were looking, attempting to spot the lady they were discussing.
"Is she nice, Harry? You've never mentioned much about her," Hermione said.
"Oh yeah, she's really nice. She's just a bit loony sometimes is all, and she's obsessed about her cats; she makes me look at their pictures every time I come to her house," Harry said, continuing to look around the room.
Just to the side of the two old ladies, Ginny, a rosy Neville and Charlie Weasley all stood. Charlie, who was another one of Ron's older brothers, was quite tall and brood-shouldered; he studied dragons in Romania. Harry took a great liking to him after he helped save Hagrid from a sentence in Azkaban, after he took the time to come and take a baby dragon away from Hogwarts; owning dragons, especially in domesticated areas, was against wizarding law. Apparently Charlie was telling them a joke, because they were all laughing hysterically, Ginny clutching her stomach as her face turned red.
Last, against the opposite wall in a shadow, stood Mr. Weasley and Lupin. Both had their heads together and they alone made an effort to keep their voices lowered. However, before he could point out the suspicious duo to Ron and Hermione, their attention was diverted away to something else as Tonks noticed their presence.
"Ho, you three!" she said, beckoning them over, "Kingsley wanted to say hello to Harry."
Kingsley, who was quite an imposing figure, towered over the three of them, even Ron. The black man had great hoop-earrings and had a broad, muscular chest. His booming voice echoed around the room as he said, looking down at Harry and shaking his hand, "Good to see you again, Potter."
"Good to see you too," Harry replied. Despite Kingsley's frightening stature, he was really nice. Kingsley was in charge of deterring the Ministry Aurors away from Sirius's case and onto something else; he gave them wrong locations and leads. Or at least he used to; Harry wasn't quite sure what he did anymore.
"What have you been doing lately?" Harry asked. "Have they pulled you from, you know, his case, in order to help fight against Voldemort?"
Shacklebolt let out a huge bark of a laugh, saying, "HA! You would think they would, wouldn't you? But no, they keep me on Sirius' case, not that it matters much now…"
Harry looked down at the ground, as more grief swelled inside him. Of course it didn't matter anymore, now that he was… Sirius was…gone. Not dead, but gone. At least that's what Harry told himself. And with that grief over his godfather's death came shame; he didn't care what Dumbledore had said, it was still partially his own fault that he no longer had Sirius with him.
He felt a large hand on his shoulder as he looked up at Shacklebolt, who was smiling down kindly at him, "Don't worry, Harry. It will all look up soon enough."
Harry nodded his head, forcing his mind to dwell upon something other than Sirius. However, he could never push the dark thoughts away for long; they were always waiting, stirring around in the back of his head, forcing their way into his thoughts at every mention of Sirius' name. He felt his jaw reluctantly move, changing the subject, fighting against his mind, "Then what do you do all the time?"
Shacklebolt replied, "Well, I don't do much. Pretty much just lie low; the only reason the Ministry is still on the case is because they still believe that he was in the league with he-who-must-not-be-named and he's out there hiding somewhere; they think he may be one of his followers now."
Harry surged with indignation, "But he's not! He's not even here; it isn't fair that everyone thinks such things about him, when it's all that filthy Wormtail's fault!"
Tonks cut in, "We know Harry. Trust me, we know. But the fact still remains that there is no clear evidence, apart from yours' and Hermione's testimonies, that Pettigrew is even alive today. Kingsley has no choice but to send the other Aurors on pointless expeditions in search of him."
Shacklebolt said, "Besides, it allows me more time to do something useful, to work for the Order. It allows me time to actually fight he-who-must-not-be-named, rather than sit back and allow the Ministry to waste another Aurors' skills."
Harry nodded his head in understanding, smiling weakly at Shacklebolt. "I understand," he said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to talk to Mrs. Figg."
"Alright, keep your chin up," Shacklebolt said, turning back to Tonks, picking up their conversation where it left off.
"Come on," Harry said to Hermione and Ron, sidling his way past the two Aurors and making his way towards the back of the kitchen, where Mrs. Figg was still talking to Neville's Gran.
"And so I said, well if you don't have Whiskers cat food any longer, I'll just have to take up my business elsewhere. You should have seen the look on that man's face, watching his most faithful customer walking out on him. Well, the bloke deserves it. Stops carrying Whiskers cat chow, I ask you." Mrs. Figg was telling an attentive Ms. Longbottom a story, and neither noticed the three of them approach. As they stood off to the side of the two ladies, waiting for a good point to interrupt, Ron glanced sideways at Harry.
"I completely agree," Ms. Longbottom began, "I had the same thing happen to me just the other week with my favorite toe-floss salesman. Just up and stopped carrying the stuff. He said there wasn't enough demand for it, and I can't imagine why. It's such an essential item, really," she said, and as Ron began to suppress a laugh, Hermione had to stamp hard on his foot to get him to shut up; Ms. Longbottom was being serious.
Harry cleared his throat, saying, "Um, Mrs. Figg?"
Both ladies turned around in their seats to see who was addressing them. As soon as Mrs. Figg saw Harry, she exclaimed, springing from her chair, "Oh! Harry! How are you, boy?" Before Harry could answer, she continued, "I heard all about what happened. Dementors again, my, my. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you arrived; a few of the Order members showed up to take me here; I had planned to run some errands, you see, in Hogsmeade. But then, when we returned back here, before I departed to head back home through the floo, there was a message sent from Dumbledore telling me to remain here, and now I know why! I'm just glad they got you out of there too, with those Death Eaters on the loose again; Merlin only knows what will happen now."
Mrs. Longbottom rose to her feet too, smiling sweetly at the three of them. "Hello, Harry. I take it that Neville told you we're staying here this summer."
"Yeah, he did. That's great to hear you've joined the Order."
"Well, I decided I'd try to make myself useful, and some housework is just the type of exercise my old bones need. It really is a nice house, this Black Mansion. It just needs some new furniture and paint, or as I like to say, it's time to put some lipstick on the pig."
Harry smiled back at the kooky old lady in the vulture hat, wondering if Neville's parents had been this odd as well. A clink of a knife on a glass alerted him, and he turned to look towards the other end of the table, where Mrs. Weasley was standing with a wine glass in hand.
"Dinner's ready. Let's all sit down to eat," she said, smiling proudly at the fine meal she had prepared. And as everyone took a chair around one half of the extensive dining table, Harry found that it was a fine meal indeed; she could give the house-elves at Hogwarts a run for their money. Stretched all along the table in front of him were a large variety of mouth-watering dishes; there was roast as well as a whole chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, an enormous bowl of fresh tossed salad, a large range of vegetables from asparagus to corn, a basket full of steaming rolls, a large tuna casserole, and two enormous pumpkin pies. Harry grabbed a bit of everything, eating vigorously; he was incredibly hungry. To the right of him sat Mrs. Figg and Ms. Longbottom, now discussing some bad shampoo they had once bought. On his left, Hermione sat listening to Ginny, who was sitting next to her, tell her all about the letters Dean Thomas had sent her over the break so far. Past them, Fred and George sat discussing their business animatedly with Mundugus while Mrs. Weasley scowled slightly at them; she still did not relish the concept of the twins being in a joke-shop business.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes sells more Fainting Fancies and Puking Pastilles than anything else," Fred said.
George added, ripping off a piece of chicken from a drumstick with his teeth, "Not to mention Nosebleed Nuggets; we've sold at least a hundred crates full of them to the poor Hogwarts students so far this summer; they all seem to be stocking up in preparations for another year chocked full of History of Magic classes."
Mundugus let out a harsh laugh, "That horrible, horrible class."
Heading up the table was Mrs. Weasley, with Mr. Weasley and Lupin sitting to her left. Bill, who sat down opposite Harry, and Charlie, who sat next to Bill, had both leaned across the table to shake his hand and say hello before they began to eat. Bill was discussing his job at Gringotts and how he was still teaching Fleur Delacour her "eenglish."
"She seems to be getting quite a bit better; her accent is less defined," he told Charlie.
"So, when are you taking her out again?" Charlie asked, smirking.
Bill blushed slightly but kept his cool. "We're going to dinner this Sunday, actually; she's taking me to a French restaurant she likes."
"You're dating Fleur now?" Harry asked interestedly, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.
"They hit it off while they were working together," Charlie said, still grinning mischievously. "Apparently she 'waz takeen by heem' when she saw him visiting you at the Triwizard Tournament."
Harry and Charlie laughed as Bill elbowed Charlie in the ribs.
"What?" Charlie laughed, "It's true!"
When everybody finished eating, and their pants felt considerably tighter, Mrs. Weasley and Ms. Longbottom began to magically clear the table, dishes stacking neatly in the sink. Everyone else slowly began to leave the room, heading upstairs to disperse into their own bedrooms. Ron and Hermione stood and turned to go back upstairs, arguing about which was better: Wizard's Chess or Gobbstones.
"Personally, I think both are rather pointless," said Hermione, "But, I'd have to go with Gobbstones; it's not as brutish."
"But that's the whole point of Wizard's Chess!" Ron said, opening the door. "Besides, I would have thought that a game requiring intellect would attract you."
"Well, muggle chess does, but not one where the pieces smash each other up constantly. Harry, are you coming?" she asked, poking her head back through the door.
"Yeah, I'm coming." Harry rose to follow them, shaking his head; Ron and Hermione were always arguing about something. He often wondered why Ron simply didn't give up; Hermione always won. Long ago, he had decided it was best just to stay out of it.
However, as he began to exit the kitchen, Lupin called him back. "Harry, we need to discuss something before you head off to bed, remember?"
"Oh yeah, sorry; I forgot," he said. "I'll be up in a bit," he added to Hermione, who was standing on the stairs waiting for him.
"Alright," she said, looking curiously at Harry, before turning and heading back up the stairs with Ron.
Harry walked back into the kitchen and sat down opposite Mr. Weasley and Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley and Neville's Gran finished up with the dishes ("Scourgify!").
"So, what's so important?" Harry asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. He wasn't too worried about what they were going to say. They would probably just tell him to be a good boy again this year, and to try to ignore the looming threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, as if he could even if he tried.
"Well, don't worry, Harry; it isn't anything bad," Lupin began.
I'm not worried, Harry thought.
"It's about the matter of Sirius' will."
Harry let his chair crash back to the ground, with a clunk. He had not been expecting this at all; he had never even entertained the thought that Sirius had a will, let alone that it involved him.
"What about it?" he croaked, trying to sound unconcerned; he hated thinking about Sirius and as he felt himself becoming secretly more and more curious about what Sirius put him in his will for, he began to feel incredibly guilty and ashamed of himself. His godfather was dead, and here he was wondering what he got out of it.
"Well, as soon as he met you and you saved him, he was so thankful and proud; all he talked about was you. He was really looking forward to you staying with him, up until the unfortunate circumstances involved with Peter's escape, and it crushed him when he learned that he could not provide a home for his godson, as he had promised. So instead, when he took up residence here, at Grimmauld Place, he decided to revise his will; all of the possessions that were meant to go to James, he deeded to you, and then some."
Harry watched on as Lupin withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment from inside his cloak, and handed it over to Harry.
"Harry, Sirius has left you his entire inheritance, including all of the Black riches from his vault, and his home," Lupin said, as Harry unfolded the parchment and began to silently mouth the words as he heard Lupin speak them, jaw agape. He couldn't believe it; Sirius had left him, well, everything. He, Harry, was the owner of Grimmauld Place, as well as even more wealth.
Lupin continued, smiling slightly, "He knew you didn't really have a home to go to, after you graduated, and he figured that since it was going to be yours, anyway, if things had turned out differently…"
Harry just sat there thickly, dumbfounded. He could not believe his eyes or ears. Not only did he have a home to stay in, and invite others to, instead of always burdening them as a guest, but he had a terrific home; he had the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. In addition to that, he had now obtained even more wealth, not that he needed it; actually, that part made him feel rather guilty.
Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry's flabbergasted expression, and said, "We would have told you sooner, but we did not want to risk any letters to your home being intercepted, and we only received news of it two weeks ago as it was."
Harry finally found his voice. "I don't deserve all of this," he said.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Lupin said, "Sirius wanted you to have it, and you will. It was what he wanted, whether you think you need it or not. Besides, none of us need a home; we already have ones."
"Well, yeah," Harry said, "But, I don't need any more money. My parents have left me more than enough to be getting on with."
"Forget about it," Mr. Weasley said. "You can't do anything about it now; he signed a magical contract binding the items to you. It's all yours to do what you wish with."
Harry nodded his head, looking down at the table; he always felt ashamed of his enormous wealth, while the Weasleys were incredibly poor. However, they would never accept his money, no matter how many times he offered it; they were too stubbornly proud to accept any forms of charity, whether it came from a friend or not, and in a way, that impressed Harry.
"Now, one last matter before you head off to bed," said Lupin. "Since this is now your residence, we're preparing to move the Order Headquarters to some other establishment."
Harry sprung up from his seat, exclaiming, "What?! No! There's no need to move it; I want it to stay here; then I can see all of you even more. Besides, this is the best place for it, and you know it!"
Mr. Weasley beamed at him, but Lupin still looked stern. "Are you sure, Harry?" he asked. "This is, after all, your home now, and it is not fair of us to pressure you into keeping such a risky operation head here, let alone all of the guests you will have needing to stay here."
"I'm positive," Harry said.
Lupin cracked a grin too, as he stood, saying, "Good. That's settled then. Tomorrow we'll head off to Diagon Alley, to visit Gringotts so you can make the transaction official. Everyone is going to get a head-start buying there school supplies, as well. We've already arranged for the Advance Guard to accompany all of you there."
"Alright," Harry said. "I'll see you both tomorrow morning. Goodnight."
Harry bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached his bedroom, he found both Hermione and Ron waiting up for him, dressed in their pajamas.
"What did they need to talk to you about?" Ron asked, as Harry came in and plopped down on the bed next to Ron's, laying flat on his back next to Hermione.
"Sirius left me an inheritance," he said, fighting to keep a straight face as he looked up at the bed canopy, hands behind his head.
Hermione turned around to face him and asked, "What?"
"Yeah," he continued, "He left me the Black fortune and mansion."
Ron and Hermione both stared at him before Ron bolted upright, staring excitedly at Harry and Hermione's jaw slowly dropped.
"Are you serious?!" Ron asked.
Harry continued to keep a straight face as he sat up, looking at both Ron and Hermione. "I'm serious," he said. He grinned as Ron hooted and jumped up into the air while Hermione shrieked and launched herself at him, arms wide, knocking him back onto the bed, laughing. As happy as Ron and Hermione were, Harry thought that they were not even half as happy as he was.