Author Note:

Hello everyone!
This is the rewrite of Three Small Favours. I wanted to explore a number of things, like what would have happened if Harry had continued to run DA, and been more involved in Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

As I said on the old version of the story, I'm cautiously optimistic that I'm finally getting my life under control, so I will be resuming work on Three Small Favours. I have decided to do this through a semi-rewrite of sorts. There are some plot inconsistencies that blocked me into corners, and the length of the chapters made me feel pressured to consistently produce chapters that long. And when life is giving you $#!& then goals tend to seem quite unobtainable. In this rewrite I will be splitting the longer chapters, in order to reduce that admittedly self-inflicted pressure, but also if I do go on a writing spree, give myself some buffer time to work on the next part of the story, and ultimately allow me to produce higher quality writing.

Thanks for giving me a second chance,

AEVulneraSanentur

P.S. I know this is very similar to the original chapter 1, but feedback is always helpful!

Chapter 1: Return On Investment

To "The Chosen One", our glorious saviour and most esteemed investor,

Hi Harry,

Business is booming. We've finished setting up shop in Diagon Alley and stock is flying off the shelves. Literally too. Some kid set off a Tiny Twister in the store last week, made a bloody mess! But we've fixed that now.

Anyways, we've sent you a sample box of some of our best sellers for your amusement. Bonus points if you can use them on Ron (We recommend the Canary Creams). We're also testing a new delivery system. Just press your wand to it and say the Marauder's Oath, like the map.

We both really and sincerely want to thank you again, because none of this would have been possible without you. Seeing as you're so determined that you don't want your 1000 Galleons back, we've decided to give you an unlimited store account. So essentially, you just pick out what you want, and it's yours. We've done the maths and you could prank every student in Hogwarts, and still not come close to 1000 Galleons of Weasley Wizard Wheezes' products. Don't argue it. You refused to let us pay you back, we're putting our foot down on this. This is our gift to you. Who knows, you might even manage to pull off a prank against You-Know-Who. Actually, if you could, that'd be absolutely brilliant for business – just don't tell him who your suppliers are. Although then you wouldn't be able to tell anyone. Ah, nevermind.

Anyway, there's also some assorted sweets in the box. These have the BLUE labels and are completely prank free, except for the Skiving Snackboxes, which have RED labels. You already know how they work, although the Shivering Sherbets are new.

The other thing we wanted to write to you about is a potential business idea we had. It involves Hogwarts, and a little rule-breaking, but we all know you've broken almost as many rules as us. We'd prefer to discuss it in person, so please come by the store when you pick up your Hogwarts supplies for the year.

Hope to see you soon!

Yours,

Fred and George

P.S. Keep the green bottle on you at all times. It's a universal antidote to all the love potions we sell, as well as a few of the more common ones on the market. We expect that more than a few witches at Hogwarts will try their luck with "The Chosen One". Several have already purchased said products, but it would be very bad for business if we disclosed who. If you ever find yourself feeling strangely attracted to another student, three drops under the tongue should be enough to dispel the effects. If the attraction remains then it's completely natural, so we've also included a bottle of Firewhiskey for courage.

P.P.S. Obviously, don't tell mum.

...

Harry Potter grinned as he re-read the Weasley Twins' letter. From the sound of it, they were well on their way to achieving their dream. In front of him sat a large cardboard box, styled to look like a wooden crate and stamped with a golden 'W'. Hedwig had brought him the letter that evening, much to Vernon and Petunia's annoyance. Upon opening the envelope in his room, a square of cardboard with his name on it had fallen out. After reading the letter, he'd quickly tapped his wand to it, and whispered "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good", and before his eyes, the piece of cardboard had enlarged, folded itself into the box, then landed with a heavy thud on the floor. True to their word, the twins had packed the box full of everything from a set of Weasley Smart Quills, to a tiny replica of Umbridge on a unicycle, to a gigantic box of Weasleys' Dragon Roasted Nuts.

Harry rummaged through the contents of the box until he found the small green vial of antidote, which had lime green swirls through it and gave off a faint glow. Love potions hey? The thought of it terrified him. Hermione had warned him about his apparent popularity with the female student body during the return trip on the Hogwarts Express, but he'd just dismissed her claims as gossip. What part of having a homicidal maniac after him didn't people understand? Anyway, he wasn't particularly interested in a relationship now that Voldemort was openly waging war against magical Britain. Harry stashed the vial in his school bag, then resealed the box and placed it into his trunk, next to a smaller, unopened parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. Any other time, he would have spent easily the next few hours looking at each and every item, but tonight, he had a guest coming. Although, thought Harry dryly, glancing to where the headmaster's letter lay on his desk, the whole idea of spending most of the holidays with the Weasleys seems almost too good to be true. Most of his possessions still lay strewn haphazardly around the room, yet to be packed. He lazily tossed a pile of folded clothes into his trunk, thankful for the 50% expansion that Hermione had cast on it at the end of the school year. The extra space made it possible to even store his Firebolt and still have room to spare, although getting it into the trunk at the right angle was a pain. He smiled to himself. His bushy-haired friend would be at the Burrow as well. And he knew Luna had been visiting often to spend time with Ginny, from the redhead's letters. Despite his longing to see his friends again, Harry had refused to let himself get his hopes up, just in case Dumbledore couldn't make it or something happene-

DING. DONG.

"Who the blazes is calling this time of night?" Harry cursed at his uncle's shout. He'd completely forgotten to inform the Dursleys that Dumbledore was taking him to The Burrow that evening. He raced down the stairs, passing Vernon in a black dressing gown, and threw open the door to reveal one Albus Dumbledore, whose eyes performed their usual sparkle as he looked past Harry. Harry himself followed the headmaster's gaze to see a purple faced Vernon, and in time to see Petunia turn the corner, only to give a terrified squeak at the sight of Dumbledore.

"Good evening to you all. I must say, the agapanthuses are flourishing since my last visit." Harry groaned inwardly, thankful that he was leaving the house that night. This was going to take a while to explain.

Eventually after loud discussion on the doorstep, they had all been ushered into the sitting room, Dumbledore brushing off all questions about the state of his injured hand. If it wasn't for the mention of Sirius, and his concern over the Headmaster's injury, Harry would have found the situation very amusing. The Dursleys were all terrified of Dumbledore, who seemed oblivious to the fact the conjured glasses of Madame Rosemerta's finest oak aged mead were bouncing off his hosts' heads with increasing intensity, although never spilling a drop. However, at the mention of his godfather's name, Harry's mood had darkened considerably. His uncle's next comment did nothing to improve it.

"His godfather's dead?" Harry's hand tightened around his wand at the hopeful tone in Vernon's voice. His uncle was pleased by the death of the man who was more of a family to Harry than the Dursleys ever had been. The burning anger that Harry had been feeling more and more often than ever began to rise. Vernon wisely shrank back as the pictures on mantle began to rattle and the lights in the sitting room flickered.

"Harry," Dumbledore warned calmly, and the magical phenomena ceased as he placed a reassuring hand on Harry"s shoulder. "To answer your question, yes, Sirius Black unfortunately was killed fighting against magical terrorists earlier this year."

"Fighting terrorists?" Vernon asked, surprise evident in his voice, "I thought he was a wanted mass murderer? A criminal?" Harry began to answer, but a squeeze on his shoulder from the headmaster stopped him.

"It seems that Harry neglected to tell you that he was found innocent. Rather than turn upon the nation that wrongly persecuted him, Mr. Black died a hero, assisting in the capture of 11 terrorists and protecting the lives of those dear to him at the cost of his own." Guilt filled Harry at Dumbledore's words. It had been his fault Sirius had been at the Ministry that night. His fault that his friends had been injured trying to help him. His fault that his godfather was dead. If he hadn't of-

"I can respect a man like that." Harry was snapped out of his thoughts to stare at his uncle in shock. "A man who served his country, I mean," Vernon added hastily, seeing the expression on Harry's face. "I still will not stand for any of your type's weirdness or oddities, but a man who dies for his country, like my grandfather, I can tolerate." There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, broken when Petunia burst into tears and embraced Vernon, sobbing about how her husband was such a good man. Dudley just sat on the other side of his father, looking from his mother to Dumbledore, and then to the glass that had finally stopped bouncing off his head.

"He was a good man Uncle Vernon," Harry said, finally finding his voice, causing Vernon to look at his nephew. "He was a good, brave man. I don't think his personality would have agreed with you," Here Dumbledore chuckled, "but he definitely was worthy of respect. In fact I think our government was awarding him a medal?" He glanced at Dumbledore, who took the cue as Harry tried to stop his voice from quavering from the discussion of Sirius.

"What Harry said is true. Sirius has indeed been awarded the highest honour our country can confer, The Order of Merlin, First Class." There was another silence, as the Dursleys processed this information.

"Professor, what were you saying about Sirius' will?"

"Ah yes. Firstly, the easier side of it. Sirius left you all his worldy possessions, including the contents of his Gringotts Vault, and Buckbeak. These transfers have already been completed by Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately we come to the difficult part. Sirius also left you Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

"He inherited money? And a house?" Vernon asked, a glint in his eye. Harry felt some of his previous anger return at his Uncle's greed. Dumbledore glanced at him briefly then addressed Vernon.

"Of that, we are still unsure," The wizard turned back to Harry, "Now prior to Sirius' exoneration, the Familial Laws of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black demanded a male heir. This would have been Sirius, originating from his great-grandfather also named Sirius, who was the oldest son of Phineas Nigellus Black. You've of course met his portrait. Interestingly, Phineas Nigellus is the common ancestor of the Black, Weasley and Potter families, although he cannot shed light on our problem." Harry's eyes widened at the statement. He'd known all Pureblood families were related, but it had never really clicked that he could be related to both the Weasleys and his godfather. He opened his mouth to ask Dumbledore more.

"Excuse me," Vernon butted in again, "the boy has met a portrait? Of a man who by the sounds of it should be long dead?"

"Yes Uncle, wizarding portraits are able to move and talk, even if the person has died. But sir, are you saying I'm related to Sirius? And the Weasleys?" Dumbledore nodded, ignoring Vernon's mutterings.

"Indeed you are Harry, and I know you want to ask more, but this is a conversation for another time." His tone was gentle, yet firm. "As I was saying, Sirius was the Heir, undisputed after Regulus' death, but then he was sentenced as a criminal by the Ministry. This meant that he was stripped of his position by the Ministry, which is where things get complicated. As Sirius' sentence was for life, by Ministry law, the heirship of the Black family passed to the closest male blood relative of Sirius." Harry, listening intently got a sinking feeling as he recalled the tapestry at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Andromeda was banished from the family. Sirius had told him he was related to Bellatrix, but she didn't have any children. But their sister was Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black. And that meant-

"Not Draco?" He asked weakly. The headmaster nodded. "Bloody hell."

"Indeed. Draco is currently the next Lord Black." Harry felt sick to the stomach at the idea of Malfoy inheriting his godfather's legacy.

"But how? If Malfoy was the heir, couldn't he just walk into Headquarters whenever he wanted?"

"No. Luckily for us, the wards around the house already recognised Sirius as its Master, hence Kreacher's obedience. This prevented the Malfoy family from using the house whilst Sirius was still alive. However, now we've reached our problem. We have no way of knowing whether the house is still secure. We can't yet know for sure whether the old family magic of the Black's is able to overrule my Fidelius charm. We've temporarily vacated the building." Dumbledore looked directly into Harry's eyes as he said this, "I hope we can resolve this matter right now, as Sirius left you one additional thing." Grasping onto any hope of preventing Malfoy from taking Sirius' name and home, Harry nodded.

"What is it?"

"He named you as his heir." Harry felt a flood of emotions at those words. Gratitude for everything Sirius had done for him. Grief that he was gone. Worry that Malfoy might still inherit Sirius' house. But the most overwhelming was a feeling of warmth, similar to that of being in the presence of a Patronus. It wasn't quite happiness, but rather love.

"S-so," his voice cracking slightly, "doesn't that mean I can claim it all from Malfoy?"

"I hope so," Dumbledore said calmly. "You see, we are unsure if Sirius' will came into effect at the moment of his death, prior to his exoneration. This would mean that he had no power to name the heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. However if, and this is what we are hoping, the will instead came into effect when presented to Gringotts, after Sirius had been cleared of all charges, this would mean that his Lordship would then be restored, making his wishes valid. We also don't know whether there are enchantments preventing those from outside the bloodline from inheriting the house, but that is not an issue, as we've established you are descended from Phineas Nigellus."

"How do I find out?" Harry asked instantly. The Dursleys watched on fascinated, unknowingly caught up in the moment. Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

"It is rather simple as a matter of fact. You see, if you have inherited the title of Lord Black, and the house, then you have also inherited-" He flicked his wand, and with a loud crack a shrieking house elf appeared. It threw itself on the shag-pile carpet, beating its fists against the floor. "-Kreacher" he finished.

"Kreacher won't!" The elf yelled, tears streaming down his face. Petunia shrieked and threw herself back against the couch, Vernon yelled "What the bloody hell is that?" and Dudley outdid both his parents by screaming, and with a speed surprising for his massive bulk, threw himself over the back of the couch, hitting the floor with a heavy thud as he vanished out of sight. The elf continued his tirade. "Kreacher wants Mistress Walburga. Or pureblood Black masters. Not nasty halfblood boy bad ungrateful Master Sirius picked. Won't won't won't won't won't!"

"Quite clearly," Dumbledore called over the noise, "Kreacher is reluctant to serve anyone not related to the Black family that he knows. But if Sirius did indeed know what he was doing, then he should obey you. If you could please give him a command?"

"WON'T WON'T WON'T WON'T WON'T!" Harry looked at the house elf with anger. Kreacher was the reason that Sirius was dead. If the elf hadn't gone to the Malfoys, his godfather would still have been alive. If Kreacher hadn't-. Harry stopped, ignoring the tantrum throwing elf momentarily. That last phrase was exactly like what he'd been telling himself earlier. If. It wasn't Kreacher's fault Sirius was dead, although the elf had played a part in it. Sirius' death was on his own hands. The elf's shouting and crying increased in volume, snapping Harry out of his guilt again.

"Kreacher, shut the hell up!" At once, Kreacher gulped, apparently unable to make a noise. The elf sent a furious look of distaste towards Harry before resuming his tantrum, albeit silently, on the floor.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore seemed pleased. "I assume we have your permission to continue using Number 12 as headquarters?" Harry nodded, his eyes still on the house-elf. The elf might not be the reason that Sirius was gone, but that didn't mean he wanted Kreacher around, especially given their mutual dislike for each other.

"What do we do about Kreacher though? I don't really want him around with me. Can I just tell him to stay at Number 12?" Dumbledore looked from Harry to the elf, still throwing his tantrum on the carpet. The shag-pile was now tear stained.

"Harry, despite appearances you should never underestimate the usefulness of a house elf. They are capable of truly astonishing things, and I believe that over time, you may earn Kreacher's respect, similar to Dobby's affection for you." Harry thought he detected a twinkle in the aged wizard's eyes.

"Don't tell Hermione that. And I definitely don't need another Dobby running around"

"Although I can understand your reluctance to be in Kreacher's company. I believe that Kreacher's presence at Number 12 could potentially result in him being more of a hindrance than a help, given past history. And I doubt your relatives here would appreciate the assistance of a house elf." Petunia gave a terrified squeak, probably thinking of what the neighbours would say. "Instead," continued Dumbledore, "perhaps he could work in the Hogwarts Kitchens. It would allow him to reacquaint himself with other elves, like Dobby. Who knows, the two may even become friends." Harry snorted.

"Fat chance." The two elves were polar opposites. "But yeah, that sounds good. Kreacher. I want you to work as Hogwarts, like the other elves there, and act as though you were an elf there. Oh, and no insulting anyone there either. Is that clear?" Kreacher stopped his tantrum and stood, before bowing. It was amazing, Harry noted, how mocking the elf managed to make the subservient action appear.

"Kreacher understands New Master. Kreacher shall go now." Kreacher shot one last look of loathing towards Harry before CRACK! The elf vanished and Dumbledore clapped his hands.

"Excellent," the headmaster exclaimed again, "The last matter remaining matter is that of Buckbeak. Currently, Hagrid is caring for him under the new name of Witherwings, and has offered his services as a carer for your hippogriff."

"That's great. Yeah, Hagrid can look after him."

"They will both be overjoyed. It was a rather touching reunion. Hagrid had not seen Buckbeak since the incident in your third year, and Buckbeak almost trampled me in his excitement to see his friend." Both Harry and Dumbledore shared a chuckle at the image, before the latter examined his watch. "Now that we have clarified that matter, we shall be off. Two hopefully short stops then to the Weasley's."

"Two stops?"

"Yes. We are making an urgent trip to the Ministry after this revelation about your inheritance, and then a very late-night call to a friend of mine. The latter will either take a while or, I expect, take barely any time at all. It's already half past eleven, but with any luck, I'll have you to the Burrow within a few hours. Are you ready to leave?"

"Uh, give me a few minutes. I did send Hedwig ahead though."

"Doubted I would turn up?" Smiling slightly at the pretend look of betrayal on Dumbledore's face, he quickly left the room. The night so far had been a rollercoaster of emotion. As Harry turned to walk upstairs, he glanced back to the sitting room and briefly wondered whether leaving the Dursleys alone with Dumbledore was the wisest decision. Especially as Dudley suddenly belched out a small fireball, starting a new round of bellows and shrieks from Vernon and Petunia.

Over all the din, he still managed to hear the headmaster's bemused voice.

"Oh dear. That must have been the firewhiskey."