Apprentice Potter
Happy Birthday to me
By Draco664
Happy Birthday to me
Dear Hermione,
I must admit, I'm confused. I'm not sure whether I should be blushing from praise or preparing to commit hari-kari. From your letter, it's difficult to tell. Thank you for the compliments, and sorry for the other things.
I do need to clear up a couple of points though.
Blaise is not my girlfriend. The potential may be there, but we have not crossed that boundary yet, and probably won't any time soon. I have been thrust into a rather unique situation here, and Blaise has been patient enough with me (most of the time) to help me come to terms with it.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, I have been given an apprenticeship. I cannot tell you where I am, or who my Master is, so please do not ask. I will be completing my magical education, and will probably be taking my NEWTs with you at Hogwarts next year, so please don't fret about my education.
Now that we have got that out of the way, congratulations on your OWL results! I cannot say that I am surprised though; you've been the top student in every class we've ever taken. I am very, very proud of you.
I didn't do nearly as well. I did get one O, (in Defense, naturally) but I was very happy to get six E's (Potions, Charms, Herbology Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration and Divination of all things. I still haven't worked that one out.) and an A for Astronomy. I failed History of Magic (a T, ugh) but given the Dark Wanker interrupted my exam, I can sort of feel OK about that. So, I got eight OWLs, which isn't too bad. As for becoming an auror, my apprenticeship is going to cover what I need to know, even though I didn't get the marks I needed. At any rate, I'm pretty sure that I won't be applying to work for the Ministry, in any capacity. I'll live in the muggle world before I let myself to that.
You probably know that Dumbledore wrote to me. Suffice to say that in the letter he said that he had no idea what spell I used to incapacitate him, so you can tell Ron not to worry. In the unlikely event that he is actually telling the truth, Dumbledore blames me for him waking up with a headache. In the far more likely event that he does know what happened, then he just wrote that to make me think I can pull one over him, and Ron can still not worry anyway, because the old fart needs to pretend that it was me who tricked him to carry it off.
Did that make sense?
I'm really not used to thinking my way through these sort of things. I may be becoming as paranoid as Professor Moody, but forcing myself to get into the habit of thinking through to different levels will keep me safer than just blindly trusting information given to me. It's hard, but necessary, and I'll be better for it. People have been manipulating me for a long time, and I refuse to allow them to do so any longer.
I just wish I learned that lesson before I killed Sirius.
It still hurts, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. About the only good thing is that I'm coming to terms with my anger affecting the world around me. I'm actually able to channel it, and make my magic stronger. That's the only reason I was able to stun Dumbledore in the first place.
Oh, I've been practising my Occlumency, and I've got to the point where my scar no longer bothers me. I've felt the warning signs, but by using Occlumency, I'm not getting visions any more. Apart from seeing Sirius die, I haven't had any nightmares for the last few weeks.
Well, in an effort to get off that depressing subject, I have a favour to ask of you.
My birthday is in a couple of days, and I was hoping that you could organise a birthday party for me. I don't know who else to ask, I can't organise much given the communication restrictions I'm under and I've got no idea what you need to do in any case, since I've only ever had one in my life. (And given I was only one year old, I probably had more fun with the wrapping paper than the presents themselves.)
If you can, I'd like to invite the DA, if only so that I can explain why I'm not going back to Hogwarts in person. And Blaise too, if you don't mind too much. Thank you, Hermione, it really means a lot to me.
Take care, and I'll floo to your house on the 31st.
See you then,
Love, Harry.
Hey Ron!
Relax mate! Dumbledore wrote me a letter saying that he was still trying to figure out exactly how I managed to 'incapacitate' him. So I think you are off the hook.
That is, as long as your mother doesn't yell at you too much.
I've asked Hermione to organise my party, so it should be sorted down to the last miniscule detail. I don't know where it will be, but I'm flooing to her house on my birthday, so I'll see you then.
How did you go on your OWLs? I don't know if your dad told you, but I managed an E in Divination. At least now that I won't be going back to Hogwarts I won't have to bother with that useless subject anymore, but I will miss the creativity we regularly showed for our homework.
Anyway, like I've told Hermione, I've been given an apprenticeship. I can't tell you who or where, but I will be making an appearance or two during the year at Hogsmeade, and I'll be taking my NEWTs with you at Hogwarts.
Don't let yourself be depressed about what happened. Believe me, the old fart deserved it.
Say hello to Fred and George for me.
Harry.
Dear Blaise,
Anti-social? Moi?
I'm sorry you had to go through all that with the old man. I guess that was going to happen at some stage the moment he saw you at the Burrow, but I'm still not happy. If I get a chance, I'll follow Ron's example and brain him again.
Do you think he'd pass it off as an accident if I used an axe?
As for why he thinks I'm important, let's just say that he's a little off the deep end. Hogwarts' unesteemed Divination professor made a prediction after my birth in his presence that the Dark Lord got wind of. The Dark Wanker didn't get the full script though, and went hunting for me as a baby.
Mind you, given her track record, I'd have to assume that Voldemort didn't find out who actually made the prediction in the first place either.
Anyway, you know the rest.
Dumbledore puts more faith into prophecies than most, so he's been trying to keep me safe all these years. Though if you knew how I was treated growing up, you'd wonder what his definition of the word 'safe' is. The second I got out from under his control, he went bananas.
Again, I'm sorry you were caught in the crossfire.
On to lighter news. My sixteenth birthday is coming up. I've asked Hermione to organise a party for me, so I'd like to invite you to floo to her house on the 31st. I hope to see you there.
Take care, and I'll write soon,
Harry.
Dear Ginny,
Thank you for your concern. The more I think about the way you stood by me at the Ministry, the more I wish we'd included you in our misadventures over the years. But don't fret about me, I'm safe and secure, not to mention free for the first time in my life.
The odd thing about freedom is that I have to accept the responsibility that comes from my actions. I accept that I will not be able to return to Hogwarts. I accept responsibility for my own education.
I also accept responsibility for my choice of friends.
Blaise is a friend, and only a friend. That may change, the same way the relationship between all of us may change over time. But for now, she is a small, but welcome, part of my life. As for trusting her, I do not entirely trust her yet. But that is because I do not know everyone she trusts.
As for what Dumbledore told me at the end of term, Remus has made it quite clear that the longer it remains a secret, the longer we have an advantage over Voldemort. If I do tell anyone, it will be you, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna all at once. You all deserve that much.
Please tell your mother that I do not blame her for Dumbledore's actions. She may think of me as sort of a son, but she'll always be the closest thing to a mother I have.
You'll have to wait to tell me all the other things yourself. I'll see you at my birthday party, but you'll have to ask Hermione for details.
See you there,
Harry.
Dear Remus,
I'm sorry that this has all been a bit sudden. From the date on your letter, you wrote it about a fortnight before I received it.
The Weasleys will be able to send me a message once a week, so just forward your letter onto them, and they'll in turn forward my letters to you. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but if Dumbledore and yourself can't find me, Voldemort has no hope whatsoever.
Thanks for being there for Ron. His letter to me was a little scattered, and I hope my reply will calm him down a little. Though if what happened is weighing heavily on Ron's mind, imagine how heavily it must have weighed on Dumbledore's?
Don't let Dumbledore fool you though, he knows exactly what happened. By pretending to think that it was me who knocked him cold, Dumbledore is playing on Ron's sympathies. I have no doubt that he will use that to subtly manipulate Ron over the next two years, to either get information or trick him into doing something.
I'm not sure whether or not to tell Ron though.
Hermione is organising my birthday party, so you'll get a chance to see me in a couple of days. Ask her for details. Can I ask a favour? Could you help her with any security arrangements? Having a fair number of students who have helped me in the past at one place could make a tempting target.
I don't know how I'll feel about Sirius' will until I see it, so if you want to bring it along on my birthday, be my guest. I might just have to take a few breaks if it gets too difficult.
I do want you to know that I'm safe, sound and learning. And happy.
I hope that sets your mind to rest.
Love,
Harry.
I put my quill down and rubbed my aching wrist. No matter how often I use a quill, it still causes my hand to cramp after a while. I'm surprised Hermione's right hand hasn't fallen off.
I looked at the stack of letters I'd written, debating whether or not to write one more.
What the hell, I don't have to send it.
Dumbledore,
Apparently, you still haven't got the point.
Don't contact me again.
H.P.
"You spotted that, did you?" Zab mentioned once I gave him the letters for a once over before sending them on.
"I assume you mean about Dumbledore knowing that it was Ron that hit him."
"Indeed. I am glad you made the connection. More than one person has noted in the past that Albus always appears to know what is going on, and when he doesn't, he simply wants you to think he doesn't."
I nodded, though I could feel a headache coming on. "So I know that he knows, but does he know that I know?" I mused.
Zab actually barked a laugh. "Do you think he does?"
I frowned for a second, putting myself in Dumbledore's position for a second. I nodded slowly. "If he truly believed that it was me that knocked him out, he would be far more interested in determining the weakness in his defenses I exposed. The letter he wrote to me was subtly trying to steer me towards trusting him again, but he knows that anything he writes will be viewed in the worst possible light, perhaps even actively disbelieving anything he says." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "One letter is not going to change the betrayal I feel; that he knows I feel. So he has to assume that I know that he knows about who hit him. So I know that he knows that I know that he knows who hit him."
I shook my head while listening to Zab's soft laughter. "This is beginning to sound like a Monty Python sketch."
Zab looked at me quizzically. "Monty who?"
"Python. A muggle group of writers, actors and comedians. One of their many techniques is to follow an idea through to a ridiculous length."
Zab tapped his bearded chin. "Example?"
I smiled at the thought of a wizard being interested in an aging band of funny men. "To poke fun at the Government, at how bloated it was getting at the time, they created a skit with a man walking in a very funny manner along a street, crouching down while walking, sometimes swinging his leg so high it was over his head. The punch line is when he passes a building which a sign says is the Ministry of Silly Walks."
Zab blinked, but smiled. "Interesting. I shall have to investigate them. Now, back to our musings. You assume that Albus knows that you know that he knows who hit hi-"
I couldn't help it. I just started laughing all the more. The deadpan delivery of that line pushed me over the edge. Zab's expression just made me laugh harder.
I decided to floo to Hogsmeade to release Pig, who appeared very confused that he was being transported somewhere before being released.
The tiny owl struggled for height, carrying a roll of parchments larger than himself. I felt a twinge of guilt, thinking that perhaps I should have picked somewhere closer, but the little pest has far too much energy to refuse to accept such a delivery.
I stepped back through the floo before I was spotted, and made my way back to Zabini Manor.
Only to find that it was pissing down.
Bloody English weather.
Zab found me moping around in the lounge, Firebolt in hand, staring glumly out the window.
"Holidays are not fun when your movements are restricted," he offered.
I grunted. "At least I'm not locked in my room."
Zab's eyebrows shot up, but he changed the subject. "I recently acquired a tome of some age. While incomplete, it does document the recipe for a potion that claims to enhance one's mental discipline. I had hoped to experiment with the recipe and test the results against another Occlumens." Zab tilted his head to one side. "Would you be interested in assisting me today?"
"Of course, isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing as your apprentice?"
Zab tilted his head to one side, and looked at me expectantly.
I closed my eyes. "Bugger. Sorry. Um, I guess that is what I'm supposed to be doing as your apprentice. I assume you asked because it is still the holidays."
"See. You don't need to ask questions when you can work out the answers yourself."
I smiled and gave a small chuckle. "Fair enough. Yes, I'd be happy to help, though I warn you, I'm not crash hot with potions."
"Your OWL score would indicate otherwise."
I grinned. "Maybe, but I think that was because there were questions on polyjuice potion in the written exam."
Zab looked intrigued. "Polyjuice is an extremely difficult potion to make, it takes several weeks to brew. Why would questions on such a complicated potion be good for you?"
I chuckled at the memory. "My friends and I brewed it in our second year."
"Truly?"
I nodded. "We used it to get into the Slytherin common room."
Zab threw his head back and laughed. "With ambition like that, it's a wonder you weren't all sorted into Slytherin in the first place!"
We spent the days leading up to my birthday pouring over the old tome. I copied out the relevant pages onto new parchment to make notes and scribbles on, only to become rather downcast as it became terribly apparent that a great deal of the recipe was illegible.
Zab did not seem concerned though. All through my potion-making career, I had not considered exactly how new potions were discovered. Despite the seemingly random ingredients and tools, there was a somewhat scientific basis for the skill.
Five items on the ingredients list had been smudged out of existence, with only the odd letter of their names legible. At that point I was ready to admit defeat, but Zab simply summoned a pair of ledgers from his library, which contained information on how various compounds reacted with each other when brewed.
He was able to identify the first missing item within fifteen minutes.
"See here, Harry," he began, his finger pointing to a specific entry in the old text. "The first item only has two letters that are legible, a combination of 'i' and 'a'.
I looked to where he was pointing. I could make out ***** *ia*** *****.
I nodded. "But that could be anything."
Zab shook his head. "Look down at what is left of the recipe. The only time the letters 'i' and 'a' appear together is for the word 'giant'."
I read down the page. "So it does. I can make out 'add the giant...' before the ink fades." I looked up at Zab. "So the middle word is 'giant' or 'giant's', the first word is probably an amount, and the third is the item we need."
Zab smiled. "Excellent. Now, look at the ingredients that are already listed. Cross reference the effect we are after in these volumes, and you can see that giant's blood is used to counter the debilitating effects of wormwood." Zab looked up at me and adopted a lecturing tone. "As a matter of fact, giant's blood is also used to increase constitution, ward off poisons and diseases, and cure disorders like anaemia and haemophilia." Zab pointed to the list of ingredients again. "Wormwood is listed here in a quantity that is considered dangerous. The addition of giant's blood would make the potion safe."
I blinked in amazement as Zab's deductive reasoning quickly picked out the first ingredient. "Well, that was easy. Now we go onto the rest of them."
Zab's lips twitched. "Almost correct."
I rolled my eyes as he dumped the tomes into my arms. "Now you go onto the rest of them," he said.
The bad patch of weather stayed around for another day before breaking, but by that time, I was well entrenched in my task. I often found myself reading off into tangent subjects, finding the information contained within Zab's books to be very interesting.
I did manage to identify two more missing ingredients, and misidentified a third. Luckily, Zab was able to quickly recognise that the potion would become useless if that ingredient had been used.
My birthday dawned cloudy and humid, for once I hadn't been waiting up until midnight for letters and gifts from my friends. It felt good to lie in, just dozing the morning away.
I wondered what Hermione had organised for me.
I gracelessly stepped out of the floo and directly into a flaming argument.
I have no idea why this sort of thing appears to happen to me more often than most, but when you've decided not to care about the world any more, it can be somewhat amusing.
"-not welcome here, even if Harry did invite you!"
"Pity you didn't tell Potter that then! He might have asked someone who isn't paranoid to organise his party!"
"Zabini, I don't care what you think of Harry, you stay away from him. He already has friends! Friends who would die for him!"
"You're an idiot, Granger. And it's obvious you don't know Potter at all. The last thing he wants is for someone else to die for him!"
"Don't call me an idiot, you... you..."
I rolled my eyes at the conversation I'd inadvertently stumbled upon. Hermione was flushed red and tongue-tied with indignation, while Blaise was pale and shaking with fury. A most interesting contrast, and one I'd have happily examined at length with amusement in other circumstances. Circumstances that did not include the disturbingly high probability of murder being committed.
"Hiya, Harry. Happy Birthday," came a voice from my right.
I turned to see Neville standing there, pretty much oblivious to the raging debate that was occurring in front of him.
"Thanks, Neville. Happy Birthday to you too. How are you feeling?"
Neville shrugged. "Not too bad. I'm still having a few bad dreams, but other than that..." He shrugged again.
I nodded with sympathy. "Um, how long has that been going on?" I asked, tilting my head towards the feuding femmes.
Neville glanced in their direction.
"-wonderfully snappy comebacks, Granger. You sure you weren't dropped on your head as a baby?"
"Are you sure you're not the result of cousins marrying?"
Neville raised one hand and twisted it back and forth. "I'm not really sure. Not much longer than an hour."
I blinked. "An hour?" I blurted.
Neville sighed deeply. "Yeah. I've only been here for twenty minutes or so, but Ron told me that it had been going on since Blaise arrived." He pointed to the other side of the room where a group of DA members were watching the proceedings with great interest. "They'd be a bit upset if you take away their entertainment." He tilted his head and gave me an intent look. "Blaise said you invited her."
I nodded. "Yeah. That's true."
"I didn't know you knew her all that well."
"I didn't before the holidays."
Neville seemed to be content with that. "Do you want a butterbeer?"
My face twisted into a mask on indecision. "I do, but I'd better stop Hermione and Blaise from killing each other first. I may need an ambulance instead though."
Neville frowned faintly. "A what?"
I waved his question away. "Never mind. Just grab a pinch of floo powder and be prepared to call Madam Pomfrey, would you?"
Neville's smile lit up the room. It had been far too long since I'd seen such a merry sight.
"I was under the impression that this was Potter's party, not Little Miss Prefect's!"
"Harry asked me to organise it, so I'll do as I see fit to make sure he has a good day!"
This had gone far enough. Hermione knew me better than just about anyone, and I'd do anything for her, but Blaise had become important to me as well. I cleared my throat in an effort to get their attention.
"Insulting his guests is your way of making sure he has a good day?"
"Since you are not welcome here, you can hardly be called a guest!"
I shook my head gently. They both had to come to terms with the fact that I wanted both of them in my life. I cleared my throat again, a little louder this time.
"Well since you can hardly be called a hostess-"
"Don't you dare try and say I haven't-"
Well, they'd gone past the stage of responding to each other's insults to not listening to them in the first place. I glanced over at their audience, many of whom raised glasses half full of various liquids in greeting before turning back to their entertainment.
Well, there was at least one way to stop them. Embarrassment.
"Hem, hem!" I said, imitating Umbridge.
Both ladies jumped about a foot in the air and spun round to face me, almost identical expressions of fright on their faces.
"As much as I'd like to join your fan club," I started, gesturing towards the group groaning in disappointment, "I'd prefer my eardrums intact." I turned to the assembled DA members. "Or would you prefer we take this outside in the sun, transfigure them half a ton of mud and get them to put on bikinis before the fight turns physical?"
The roar of approval from the male members of the DA was amusingly enthusiastic. I turned back to the pair of combatants to see they'd both assumed identical shades of crimson.
"Harry, you prat!" said Hermione, before throwing her arms around my neck. "What did you go and say that for?" she whispered fiercely in my ear.
I put my arms around her and gently squeezed. I noted that she was very warm. "It was the only way to shut you up. You didn't even notice me arriving, and I tried to get your attention a couple of times."
She leant back, still looking annoyed. "You could have tried harder."
I gave her a lopsided grin. "Not without the Ministry coming round to investigate."
She let go and smoothed down the front of her blouse. "Um, well, Happy Birthday," she said finally.
Blaise sauntered up to us, and with a subtle nudge of her hip, edged Hermione out of the way. "Yes indeed. Happy Birthday, Potter."
I almost got the first syllable of a 'Thank you' out before Blaise grabbed the sides of my head and kissed me hard on the lips.
It took more than a little effort to calm Hermione down after that. That is, she assumed a expression of absolutely nothing, and was coolly polite to everyone from that point on. It took a great deal of effort to get her to even briefly show some emotion; to bring her down from the alpine mountaintops of icy wrath.
I spent some time catching up with the DA members, finding out how their holidays were going. Blaise stayed close by for the most part, though occasionally left the group to get a drink to to chat with some of the other people at the party. I found myself enjoying the party in spite of Hermione's mood.
The Creeveys were present, sans cameras. Angelina, Alicia and Katie were there too, and they gave me a wave and a smile from across the room. From the floating conversation, I gathered Oliver Wood had a training session today for a game tomorrow, so wasn't able to come. Fred or George was holding court at one end of the room, doing a brisk trade. The other was probably holding down the fort in Diagon alley. Given how loud the results were, I spend some time working out why the neighbours weren't complaining.
It was the sight of a sparrow scratching the lawn for seeds through the window that convinced me there were fairly extensive silencing charms surrounding the house. A muffled boom made almost everyone in the room jump, but the bird outside didn't even flinch.
That meant that there were some adult wizards or witches around.
I shifted my gaze from the local wildlife to the faces of the guests. I could recognise all of them easily, except for one woman, though given her appearance, she would have to be Hermione's mother.
As I went over to introduce myself, she stumbled and almost tripped over the edge of a rug. I stopped dead and examined her closely, noting that while she was wearing rather close fitting clothes, the sleaves on her top were rather loose.
Long sleaves? In July?
She gave the offending rug a glare and noticed me looking at her. "Ah, you must be Harry. Pleased to finally meet you," she said, holding out her hand.
A tiny smile flickered over my lips. "Wotcher," I said, mimicking Tonks' usual greeting.
The woman stiffened, but quickly relaxed. "A little informal, aren't we Harry?" she said. Her voice was slightly strained, but you'd have missed it if you weren't listening for it.
I glanced around the room, noting that a couple of people were watching. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger. Or should that be Doctor? I'm sorry if I offended you, Hermione has told me so much about you, I feel as though I already know you." I shook her hand.
'Mrs. Granger's' shoulders slumped slightly. "Would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a moment, Harry? I'd like to have a little private chat with Hermione's best friend."
I nodded. "Of course. Lead the way."
There were a couple of more familiar faces in the kitchen. Not surprisingly, Hermione's father was there, along with a woman who, though wearing different clothes, looked identical to the woman I'd just introduced myself to.
Remus sat at the kitchen table too, a cup of steaming tea in front of him. His eyes flickered between me and the first Mrs. Granger, his eyebrows raised in silent question.
"Don't ask me how, but he picked me out straight away," grumbled Tonks as she morphed back from mimicking Hermione's mother.
I gave her a grin. "Unless Dr. Granger here is in the habit of concealing a wand up her sleave..."
All the adults minus Tonks chuckled. Remus gave Tonks a look of amusement, and held out his hand.
"All right, Remus. You were right. He spotted me. Happy?" she grumbled, extracting a galleon from a pocket and dumping it into Remus' hand, obviously disgruntled.
Remus stood and faced me. "It's good to see you, Harry."
I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling alone. I grabbed the werewolf in a hug and held on tightly. "You too," I whispered.
I was led into a room that could only be described as a library. Books lined every wall, and were stacked in neat piles on various pieces of furniture.
I sat down on one of the couches Dr. Granger indicated and squirmed a little to get comfortable. He sat down on a three-seater couch to my right while Remus sat on a chair directly opposite. Tonks plonked herself gracelessly down next to me. Each of us put our drinks on the coffee table in the middle of the chairs, though I managed to catch Tonk's before it was spilled all over the carpet.
"Harry, I've asked John to sit in with us, since he has had some experience with the execution of wills in the muggle world."
I glanced over at Hermione's father, who nodded with a mildly sad expression. "All four of Hermione's grandparents passed away before she began school at Hogwarts, over a period of a few years. I was named as executor in each of their wills. It makes it a little easier for someone who has experienced loss to have someone they trust to take care of the legalities. It also makes it easier to have someone with experience from whom to ask advice."
I nodded thankfully. "I-, that is, who was Sirius' executor?"
Remus' lips pursed tightly. "As a fugitive, he did not get a chance to legally change his final wishes. The will he wrote during the war was simple and direct. At the time he had no assets to speak of, though he did have a reasonable amount of money from an inheritance himself."
I frowned at Remus' evasion of my question. "You didn't answer," I said, wondering if Zab's conversation method was contagious. A sudden prickling ran down my spine as realisation dawned painfully. "My father." I whispered. Tonks reached out and silently took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Remus nodded again, with an expression of approval. "Yes Harry. James was named as Sirius' executor." Remus made a face. "Peter was named executor in the event of James' death."
My heart skipped a beat. "Wormtail? Why?"
Remus sighed. "Sirius didn't entirely trust me at the time. Remember, we had reason to believe that someone was passing secrets to the Death Eaters; Sirius assumed that it would have been me."
"So we have to wait for Wormtail to make an appearance in order to carry out Sirius' wishes?" I growled.
Dr. Granger shook his head. "No. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Pettigrew is dead. If he did surface, he would be charged and certainly found guilty, his duty as executor would be rescinded because of that. In that situation, a government employee is put in charge of executing the will. Usually some low level civil servant."
Remus nodded in agreement. "Sirius' case also has some extra difficulties. First, there is no proof of his death. There is no body, and even though there were witnesses to his death, all three of us are beneficiaries in his will, so our testimony may be seen as suspect. Not to mention that having to explain why the country's most wanted criminal was working with several Ministry personnel would be difficult enough at the best of times. Now, any hint of collusion by Ministry personnel with dark forces is cause for a full investigation." Remus sighed and shook his head. "With so little resources, the Ministry is stretched to the limit trying to cover everything that is happening. By forcing the issue, all we would accomplish is weakening the forces fighting against Voldemort for a significant length of time."
I pushed my glasses onto the top of my head and rubbed my eyes. "So what does all this mean? I assume the inheritance deposited in my vault will continue to be unavailable. That doesn't bother me. What about clearing Sirius' name?"
Remus sighed and sat back. "Harry, is that the most important thing to you?"
"Damn straight!"
"Why?"
I blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Why is clearing Sirius' name so important? He's dead. It doesn't matter to him anymore."
I honestly didn't know I could go from upset to insane with rage in less than a second. All four of our glasses shattered in unison. Dr. Granger yelped and leapt to his feet while Remus just gasped at the sudden physical manifestation of my anger. Tonks cursed as I tore my hand from her own.
"It does matter!" I shouted. "Haven't you learned anything?"
I tried to stand, only to discover that I was already on my feet.
Remus swallowed nervously, but had his wand out and pointed at me in an instant. "Harry, please calm down. I don't want to have to use magic against you," he said, his voice soft, but determined.
I snarled at him. "Dumbledore tried that a week ago. What makes you think you'd fare any better than him?" Without looking, I swung my right hand in a circle to my side on a hunch, and was gratified to feel Tonks' wand knocked out of her hand.
"Because you love me," he offered simply, not glancing at Tonks, who I was sure had an expression of extreme surprise.
"But we can be angry at those we love," I retorted, but his words had affected me. There was no way I'd attack him, no matter how angry I was.
Remus nodded, but didn't lower his wand. "Yes, yes we can. And I know you are angry with him Harry. But why is it so important to you that we clear his name? It will take a great deal of time and effort, and we just don't have the resources to spare."
I collapsed back into my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose, seething with anger. Remus took the opportunity to summon Tonks' wand and handed it back to her. "You just said that anyone who is suspected of dark ties are investigated," I said.
"Yes. Yes I did."
"Let me guess. These investigations are not being conducted completely," I spat, sarcasm dripping from my words.
Remus frowned. "True. In quite a few circumstances, they have returned a questionable judgement. Some investigators are making a name for themselves by being, shall we say, enthusiastic. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess." I said flatly.
Tonks snorted softly, but Remus gave a small sigh of frustration. "Cynicism does not become you, Harry."
"To an optimist, a realist is a cynic." I shook my head. "Look, can you name exactly one thing the Ministry has done correctly that affected me?"
Tonks butted in as Remus raised an eyebrow. "Minister Fudge didn't bring charges against you when you blew up your Aunt Marge."
"That bitch is not my Aunt!" I snapped at her.
"I stand corrected. But the point is valid," she replied, looking a little miffed.
"Really? Tell me this. If he had ordered an investigation, would anything have come of it? It was an uncontrolled release of magic in anger." I snorted. "It's not like I haven't been doing that all bloody summer. No, Fudge was blinded by my fame and decided not to pursue it for the wrong reasons. You'll have to do better than that."
Tonks appeared momentarily flustered. Dr. Granger used the opportunity to enter the conversation.
"Um, Harry, what happened? Did you blow someone up?"
I shook my head. "It's not what you think. The woman is my Uncle's sister. She came around for a visit in the summer before my third year. The last time she stayed for a visit, her dog chased me up a tree while the rest of my relatives laughed at me."
Dr. Granger's eyes flashed fire. "Go on."
I shrugged. "She kept saying that my parents were a failure. That my father was worthless, and that there was no hope for me. She called my mother a bitch," I related, getting angrier as the memories resurfaced.
For some reason, Dr. Granger appeared even angrier than me. "What happened then?"
I frowned. "To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure. She started expanding, like you were blowing up a balloon. She floated out the open door and into the streets. The Ministry caught her, undid the magic and then wiped her memory."
"I see," Dr. Granger said quietly, before leaning back on the couch and interlacing his fingers into a double fist in front of his face, thinking deeply.
Remus cleared his throat. "Harry, I know that you had a difficult childhood. And now that I think about it, the Ministry hasn't exactly been a model of-"
"So you can't think of a time they were right when dealing with me," I snapped.
"I guess not," he said.
"Then why do you think I was being cynical when I said the Ministry hadn't done their job correctly?"
Remus sighed deeply. "It just pains me to see someone as young as you so jaded, Harry."
"It doesn't pain you that the Ministry may be buggering up people's lives just to appear to be competent?"
"Yes, and there are loud voices at the Ministry who are being hysterical about punishing those found to have links to dark wizards, but that doesn't explain why you are so adamant about clearing Sirius' name."
"It has everything to do with it Remus! If people heard just how badly someone who was innocent was treated, then how that person fought against Voldemort even though his own government had condemned him, then they may start thinking about standing up themselves. Not just relying on a group of useless bureaucrats more interested in padding their pockets and covering their arses. Voldemort wouldn't stand a chance if everyone in the wizarding world stood side by side against him."
Remus nodded. "It would be of great benefit if we could do that, but neither the Order or the Ministry have the ability at present."
I took a deep breath to calm myself. "Well then, maybe I do."
Remus and Dr. Granger shared a glance. "Um, what do you mean?"
I shook my head. "Never mind. I haven't thought my way through it yet. Can we just get on with why we are here?"
The adults looked at me intently for a second or two, before Remus finally nodded. "Of course. I have a copy of Sirius' will here. Would you like to read it?"
I stared at the will in his hand, and it felt as though the world had stopped on its axis. That single roll of parchment bound with a black ribbon that held Sirius' last wishes, or at least his last wishes as they were before his world was torn apart in one night.
No, whatever was written there, it wasn't what he would have wanted to happen the evening before he tried to save us at the Ministry.
I shook my head. "No. That was written by a man who didn't know what was truly happening."
Remus nodded. "I agree. However, it is the version the law will recognise."
I nodded glumly. "What does it say."
Remus slipped the ribbon off and unfurled the parchment. "I, Sirius Black, disinherited scion of the ignoble house of Black, do make and declare my last will and test-"
I groaned. "Broadly, Remus. Broadly, what does it say?"
"Very well, Harry. Besides some incidental items he no longer owns, like his motorcycle, he essentially splits his estate into six equal parts. One to James, one to Lily, one to Peter, one to Tonks, one to myself and one to you."
I looked up. "Why would he not name you executor because he thinks you were dark, but give you a share of his assets?"
Remus sighed. "My share depends upon my declaring under the influence of Veritaserum that I do not support the Dark Lord."
My first reaction to be angry at Sirius was tempered at the fact that he was nineteen when he wrote his will. I looked over to Dr. Granger. "What happens when some recipients are not alive? I mean-"
Dr. Granger held up a hand. "I know what you mean, Harry. Depending on the terms of the will, it can either split the deceased's shares equally among the remaining living parties, or their portions are added to their own estates, and distributed as per their own wishes."
Remus interrupted. "Sirius made no provision for that situation. During the last two years, he knew that he could not make any legal amendments to his will, but he asked me that Tonks, you and I, Harry, as the last legal beneficiaries, come to an agreement ourselves."
I frowned. "What part of his estate has already been distributed? I mean, when I went to Gringotts, there was a fairly significant deposit. I can't imagine he had an enormous inheritance before he was jailed."
Remus nodded, seemingly pleased with me. "Remember, the will was written before he was made an orphan, with the exception of his cousins. Sirius inherited the entire Black family fortune and assets before his death."
I mulled this over for a bit. "Won't his inheritance of those be contested?"
"By who?"
"Draco's mother? She hasn't been implicated in anything, as far as I'm aware."
Remus smiled almost evilly. "Oh, yes. She went and saw Malachi about securing what she could. But when Sirius wrote this, he almost nothing compared to what he owned at his death. The will is simple and direct. There is no room for legal manoeuvring at all, he gave no reasons for his decisions. She would have to claim that it was in the best interests of the family, but I can't see the Wizengamot agreeing with her."
Tonks laughed. "They'd have to face the public and say that they think it is better to take from someone the media is portraying as a hero and give the estate to a family who has been proved to be dark."
I snarled, feeling my accustomed hatred towards the press. "This week."
Dr. Granger tilted his head to one side. "This week, Harry?"
"Yeah, they're making me out to be a hero this week. They may get bored with that, and decide to portray me as a reckless danger to other children. I suppose it depends on whether or not they meet their sales quota," I grumbled.
Tentatively, Tonks slipped an arm around my shoulders. "It's OK, Pup."
Remus gave me a minute to compose myself. "In any event, given that in the eyes of the law, Peter is dead, there are three portions to be allotted, including ownership of various pieces of property, including Grimwald Place."
I glanced at Tonks, whose hair was, for once, a normal shade of dusty blonde. "What do you think?"
She shrugged. "When the Order was making moves without the Ministry's approval, Grimwald Place was a necessity. Now, though the charms are still in place, that level of secrecy isn't needed. To tell you the truth, it is no longer necessary, though we can't exactly get rid of it."
I gave a low chuckle, feeling the tension of the last few minutes fade. "Yeah. I suppose having one particular portrait permanently attached to the wall would lower the value of the property more than a little."
With my answer, the whole room appeared to relax slightly.
Remus extracted a small, wrapped box from his robes and placed it on the table before removing the shrinking charm. "We can discuss how we are going to divide Sirius' estate later, Harry. That is not important right now. I do have here a few things Sirius wanted you to have though.
I swallowed nervously, wondering why I was so scared of what was in the box.
The three adults stood. "We'll leave you to it, Harry. Just remember that if you need us, we are right here."
"Thanks, Remus, Tonks. And thank you, Dr. Granger."
Hermione's father nodded. "My pleasure, Harry. May I ask a small favour?"
"Of course."
"Hermione stormed off earlier today, and refused to say what was wrong. In the interests of being good hosts, we didn't want to push in case we made a scene. But would you go and talk to her? Please?"
I nodded quickly. "Of course."
I tentatively rapped on the door with one knuckle. Silence greeted me.
"Hermione?"
"Go away," came her muffled response.
"No," I responded. "I need to talk to you."
"Why don't you go and talk to your girlfriend?"
I debated saying 'I'm trying to', but that would probably make things worse. "Because, like I wrote to you, I don't have a girlfriend."
"You could have fooled me!"
I raised my eyebrows. "I could? That's amazing. I've never been able to fool you before."
There was a pause before, "Just go away, Harry."
"No. I need to talk to you."
"Well, I don't want to talk to you."
I sighed. "Fine, I'll do the talking."
"I don't want to listen to you either."
I leaned my head back and thudded it against the wall. "'Mione, please!"
"No! Go away!"
I looked down at the slim mirror in my hand, and evaluated the gap at the bottom of Hermione's door. The carpet was thick, but worn, which meant that I could probably slide the mirror under the door.
What the hell. "I have something for you."
"Don't want it."
With a grimace, I knelt down and pushed the mirror face down under the door, giving the handle one last shove to propel it into the room. "It's yours now. You'll have to open up to give it back."
"I'll just send it to your girlfriend with Pig next time."
I closed my eyes. "It belonged to Sirius, Hermione. I want you to have it."
The pause was longer this time. "You should keep it."
"That would be silly, Hermione."
"Why?"
"Because then all I could do would be talk to myself."
Slowly, the door opened slightly, allowing a rumpled and red-eyed Hermione to stick her head through. "Is this...?"
I nodded. "The twin to the mirror I should have used to call Sirius after our History OWL."
"Why are you giving it to me?" she asked in a soft voice, with an odd twinge of both hope and dread.
I reached out and, for the first time, cupped her cheek in my palm, and gently ran my thumb along the moist skin beneath her eye, wiping away the tears. "Because there is no one else on this world I'd rather talk to."
Before she could say, 'What about Blaise?', I held up my other hand. "No matter what happens between Blaise and I, you will always be my friend. Maybe in the future, we will be something more, but for now, I need you as a friend."
"But what if I want something more now?" she whispered, her eyes downcast.
"I can't give it to you Hermione. I can't give it to you, to Blaise, to anyone. I'm not going to be living in the next room to you for the next two years. We are only going to be seeing each other a handful of times until our NEWTs. I can't give you anything more than friendship during that time because of that."
Hermione looked up into my eyes for a few long moments, before opening the door to allow me in.