A/N: This is chapter 1 of 4 of a story for the I Never Challenge set by the Teacher's Lounge. It is an LBPB fic - not my usual genre at all, and a bit of a crack!fic, so bear with me...

Disclaimer: It's all JKR's. Except the nonsense.

It was summer time at number four Privet Drive, and Harry Potter was Brooding. Whilst a common pastime for a teenage boy, this was no ordinary Brooding: Harry was Brooding over the death of his much loved godfather, Sirius Black, and the revelation of the prophecy he had destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. This, therefore, was Serious, Adult Brooding.

For a while that afternoon, Harry had retreated to the familiar and very suitable-for-Brooding cupboard under the stairs, and had achieved rather a high level of simultaneous melancholy, guilt, and self-pity. However, on discovering Harry folded up amongst the cleaning supplies, Petunia had screamed rather loudly and beaten him with a broom until he scrambled for the quiet of the smallest bedroom.

It was whilst Harry was fully occupied with a particularly stewed bout of Brooding that he was suddenly disrupted by a large tawny owl at the window. He was slightly irritated to be disturbed, but the promise of some contact from the wizarding world during his summer's indenture with the Dursleys was worth the brief suspension of business.

The letter was not, as he had suspected, from either Ron or Hermione. It wasn't even from Professor Dumbledore, whom Harry had still not totally forgiven for last year's treatment, which had inadvertently caused the events of the previous month. The letter, instead, was signed by a Mr Jeremy Jenkins Esq, Solicitor in Magical Law - a gentleman Harry had not only never met, but was sure he had never even heard mentioned before.

Dear Mr Potter,

Due to your absence during the reading of the will of Sirius Orion Black, it falls to myself to inform you that, due to late changes to the contents of the will, you are no longer the legal heir to the Black fortune, titles, and all that accompanies the inheritance.

Whilst the deceased wished you all the best, he felt it would not be beneficial "for the greater good" for you to inherit.

Sympathies,

Mr Jeremy Jenkins Esq

Solicitor in Magical Law

Jenkins&Jeffries Solicitors

London

Harry paused, more than a trifle Confused, and re-read the letter. There were more than a few questions raised by this unexpected letter, and not a single one answered - a feeling commonly attributed to dealings with lawyers, but one which Harry had not had the dubious pleasure of enduring before. Sirius had a will? He had intended to leave something to Harry? Why had he decided not to? Why had he not been invoted to the reading, despite quite blatantly being an Adult now? Why did Sirius hire a solicitor with neither tact in delivering bad news, nor any skill at all in letter writing?

And what was the fortune and title that was referenced?

Harry hadn't been aware that there were titles in the wizarding world before now. It was strange that a magical peerage wasn't something that had come up in conversation at some point during the last five years at Hogwarts. However, this was Britain, after all, and whilst the aristocrats had become a little quieter with time and the example of the French, the class system was most definitely still at play. That, and visiting a room full of brains, meeting a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and seeing the face of Lord Voldemort in the back of a teacher's head had significantly raised Harry's game in suspension of disbelief.

However, Harry Potter was Suspicious. This was actually a fairly typical emotive reaction for him upon finding a question he couldn't answer and that no one else cared about in any way - possibly a part of why his relationship with Professor Snape was so horribly sour - however he was absolutely sure that, this time, he was right to be Suspicious. Even if recent experiences should possibly have taught him better.

Therefore it was a Suspicious mood rather than a Brooding one that Dumbledore found Harry mired in some hours later when he Apparated with a large crack into Harry's bedroom. Dumbledore hid his surprise at this discovery efficiently behind his silvery beard - this being the main reason why all wizards of great power sport voluminous facial hair, of course - and ignored the half-surprised, half-disgusted expression on Harry's face that made it quite clear that Harry would not be changing in his bedroom ever again.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," the old wizard beamed over his half-moon spectacles. Harry fidgeted awkwardly: of course he was there, it was his bedroom.

"I've come to offer my condolences on your sad news."

Harry was Confused.

"Professor, Sirius died back in May. You were there. You duelled Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. Remember?"

Dumbledore frowned, his expression reflecting Harry's like a grotesque carnival mirror.

"Not that, Harry. Although, of course, you have my every sympathy. No, I meant the details of Sirius' will."

At that moment, Harry's Confusion reached the critical mass required for it to spontaneously convert into Suspicion.

"How do you know about Sirius' will, Professor? I've only just received the letter."

"I was at the reading, Harry. Sirius left everything to the Order of the Phoenix, you know. For the greater good."

For the greater good. Something about the phrase seemed both familiar and significant, but, unable to immediately remember why, Harry promptly and conveniently forgot about it.

"Sirius died a good death, Harry. The best he could hope for: protecting the ones he loved. I know it will be hard for you without his emotional support, but you are an Adult now, and hopefully, with the Ministry and the media now on our side, you won't be under quite as much pressure. Except to defeat Voldemort, of course. And pass your exams."

It wasn't often Harry was rendered completely incapable of some kind of rebellious-teenage-boy comeback, especially to a teacher who seemed to be mad, but on this occasion it appeared to be the case.

"I'm so glad we've had this little chat, Harry. We'll meet again, soon - and I'll bring some lemon sherbets next time."

At that, Dumbledore Disapparated. But Harry continued to stare, wide-eyed, at his bedroom wall. Lemon sherbets. Lemon sherbets.

Dumbledore never delivered bad news without some form of accompanying confectionary - not unless it was so sudden that he hadn't had time to prepare. Harry had experienced enough of both scenarios to know immediately the validity of the theory. That meant that this was no planned consolatory visit: something had prompted Dumbledore to rush to Harry's side, and not to tell him what. Dumbledore, once again, despite his promise and the fact that Harry was obvious an Adult now, was keeping things from him.

Harry Potter was most definitely Suspicious.

It was time for his summer jaunt to the organised chaos of The Burrow, and Harry Potter was Relieved. It was quite a visceral feeling: not only did he feel significantly lighter the further away from Privet Drive he went, but he was very much looking forward to sharing his Suspicion with some sympathetic ears. Or Ron and Hermione, which was probably more likely.

Mrs Weasley fussed around him like a mother hen, as always, and whilst she studiously avoided mentioning Sirius' name, she certainly alluded to his feelings of grief and loss often enough for him to get the gist. However, he did escape as soon as politely possible to confer with his best friends on the Suspicious matters of the last few days.

"So," Harry concluded with aplomb, "You can see why I'm Suspicious."

Ron and Hermione shared a dubious glance.

"Harry," Hermione began, gently, "I understand how you must be feeling, but Dumbledore is the one who has helped and guided you for the last five years. I just don't see why he would do that to you."

"Plus," Ron added jovially, "It's not like he needed to. Neither he nor the Order needs to steal people's inheritances to get by."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the unconvinced expressions on his friends' faces, he bit back his retort. They were obviously utterly converted members of the cult of Dumbledore. Or maybe it was more like an army of zombies.

"Don't be angry," Hermione pleaded as she noticed Harry's eyes harden, "I know you're angry about Sirius' death, but I just think you're -"

"I'm not angry!" Harry shouted, angrily.

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"… at you," Harry finished lamely.

"Of course," Hermione said with a slightly condescending tone.

But she relented, as she always did to Harry's inane plans.

"I'll do some research for you, and see what I can find about Sirius' will," she offered, and Harry beamed at her.

"Thanks, Hermione. I really think you're going to find something."

"Ok, but if I don't, you really have to let this go."

"I really will, honestly," Harry lied brightly.

It was the middle of the night at number four, Privet Drive, and Harry Potter was asleep. Or, he was, until Errol smacked rather loudly into his bedroom window, and let out an indignant squawk. Harry was disoriented for a moment, half expecting something to be trying to kill him (it did seem to happen inordinately often), but quickly rose to rescue to hapless owl.

The letter was from Hermione, whom he assumed must therefore still be at the Weasleys. That was definitely Suspicious; he was certain that they were talking about him and how delusional they thought he was. They might even be telling Dumbledore. A very sad thought occurred to him: maybe he would have to leave his best friends out of this. Until he was sure they were free of Dumbledore's influence, they couldn't be trusted.

Dear Harry,

I did a little research for lawyer was a little fuzzy on the details of the change to the will, but it seemed to happen just after Christmas. He clarified that Sirius left everything to the Order, through Dumbledore, for use towards the greater good. Nothing suspicious at all - so remember your word.

Hermione

Harry froze. It was all left to Dumbledore? Sirius had altered his will to cut out Harry, his beloved godson, to fund the Order? For the greater good?

Something stung Harry about that phrase, but he felt too Impatient to reason it out. Instead, he hit on a plan: a plan to figure out exactly what Sirius hadn't left to him, and why. He drew out some parchment, and began writing a letter. A letter to a character even more Suspicious than Dumbledore...