Chapter 2- House-Elves and Tantrums
Silence fell around the table. Ginny had an arm round Harry, who looked pale and shaken. Remus sighed in relief and bit his lip to hide a smile, even as the Order succumbed to shock.
"That can't be right," Professor Dumbledore said eventually. "Harry cannot inherit. The law says he must be of age."
"Harry's emancipated now," Remus dived in, ignoring the knot of fear in his stomach. He pushed it aside with the rest of the pain wracking his weakened body.
"But he's not yet seventeen." The calm tone would have been infuriating if not for the weight of meaning behind it.
"That shouldn't matter. He's legally an adult."
The headmaster scrutinised both Harry and the will, frowning as he poured over the text.
Emmeline Vance said, "What will happen if Harry is too young?"
Her hands rubbed against the sleeves of her robes, fidgeting in that nervous gesture all-too-familiar from Hogwarts exams and Order missions. Remus was suddenly overcome with memories of her lounging around Sirius' flat in her pyjamas, dolled up in her finest dress robes before an expensive date, helping him wash plates when she stayed over for dinner. Being his friend, even as he played the old game of being Sirius' flatmate.
"I'll die," he stated, bluntly. "Sirius will have left a list of other people who can inherit, but only in the event that Harry is dead or in Azkaban at the time of the reading. If he wasn't certain when he wrote this..."
Her mouth fell open and her fingers tightened convulsively around her sleeves, gripping the plush green velvet like a lifeline.
"Merlin," Harry breathed. "Professor Dumbledore?"
With a muttered spell, a glow of golden light shimmered on the surface of the will and Remus laughed.
"The magic has recognised the will reading as valid," Albus stated. "The bond has partially transferred to you, Harry, and awaits your claim."
Relief swept through the assembled company.
"Claim?" Harry asked weakly.
"To accept the bond, you must speak some ritual words. I have them written here somewhere..." Dumbledore began to dig around in his sequinned pockets.
"You gave it to me for safekeeping, Headmaster," Snape said, in a subdued voice, producing a crumpled scrap of yellow parchment from his voluminous robes.
"Yes. Thank you, Severus. Now, if you will, Harry?"
His voice trembled almost as much as the narrow slip in his hands. "I, Harry James Potter, of the Houses Peverell and Black, claim the werewolf hitherto permitted to use the name Remus Lupin as my property."
A golden nimbus formed around Harry's limbs and he gasped as the light drifted away from his body towards Remus. When it reached the werewolf, it coiled around him, shooting upwards from boots to head, wrapping him in chains of magic. For a moment, the kitchen was illuminated, before the magic dissipated.
Remus choked down tears, closing his eyes as the restrictive spells settled once more into his bones. The familiar sensation of foreign magic permeated through him, pulling his skin too tight, raising hairs along the back of his neck and setting off a wave of dizziness and disorientation. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself upright as his balance swayed away from him. Somewhere in the fog of confusion and rising panic, a hand caught his arm and held him immobile until the feeling receded.
"Are you okay, Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked. She sounded scared.
He nodded his head a little, eyes remaining closed. "I'm not your professor any more, Hermione," he said, automatically. He sighed and met her eyes across the room. "I'm fine. It just feels a bit unsettling."
Snape snorted. The teenagers shared a plethora of concerned looks.
"Well, that worked out splendidly," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Now, there are a few last orders of business to attend to." He lifted the disillusionment charm on a sparkling silk bag on the table and tipped out its contents.
"Here is Remus' wand." He tossed it across to Harry, who accepted it apprehensively. The chipped, damaged wood felt rough to the touch.
"Lupin." Harry passed it back over, sickened by the dawning truth of what the exchange meant.
"Do I have permission to use it?" the werewolf asked.
Tonks drew in a sharp breath. Harry's eyes widened. "Of course."
"Thank you."
The headmaster cleared his throat and handed over a sheet of yellowed parchment.
"These are Remus' ownership papers. You need to sign on the dotted line here and present them first thing tomorrow at the Ministry. You have an appointment in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at eight o'clock," Dumbledore said.
"Why?" Harry questioned.
"To sort out some paperwork and inform you of your responsibilities and certain laws," he said, offhandedly. "And so you may be apprised of Remus' personal history." The werewolf grimaced. "His caseworker will deal with you."
Harry nodded hesitantly. "Okay." He glanced at the parchment and made as if to slide it into his pocket.
"You would be better to sign that as soon as possible," Andromeda put in. "It makes him yours legally, as well as magically."
The glare she received would have given Voldemort pause. "I just think it would be rather cruel to sign it here in front of him. Not to mention half the Order."
The witch smirked. "Have it your way then."
The phrase tickled the back of his mind. Why did that sound so familiar? A glimpse of blue sky flitted across his memory, but slipped from his grasp like mist as Dumbledore called him back to the present.
"There is also a letter to you from Sirius," he said, pushing a thick envelope across the table-top.
Harry's name curled across it, elegant black ink fresh with his godfather's intent. He brushed a fingertip over it. His loss welled up again at the thought of Sirius touching this same parchment, writing this last missive to his godson.
"Does anyone have a letter opener?" he said, failing to tear the thick envelope.
"You can use magic, you know," Bill Weasley pointed out. "You're legally overage now. Not that it matters when you're in a wizarding household."
It coaxed a small smile from him, as he drew his wand. His spell cut through the parchment like butter. A rectangular object slid out and gleamed in the candlelight.
"A mirror?" Harry said.
"It's Sirius'," Remus realised, voice thick. "I had the other one."
"Like the ones linked between my father and Sirius?"
Remus nodded. "It was my idea. It gave me a bit more leeway, being able to keep in constant contact." He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.
"Where is yours now?"
"I don't know. It was confiscated when I got to the Creatures Department. They must still have it."
About to ask what that meant exactly, Harry was distracted by the sight of folded parchment peeking out of the envelope. He grabbed a corner and pulled. Sirius' handwriting gleamed up at him. He was barely aware of the conversation carrying on around him, as he started to read.
"How did Sirius know to leave his mirror behind?" Mad-Eye said, suspicious.
"He always did when he thought he was going into danger," Remus said, still staring at the shining surface. "He said it was too precious to risk breaking it."
"And yet you had yours," the ex-Auror said.
A strong scent of hostility and disgust came from the man and it took a moment for him to pinpoint its cause. Remembering Mad-Eye's recent long imprisonment and open defiance of his captor, he couldn't help but wonder if he was drawing parallels between their own situations and finding Remus lacking. He imagined that passive acceptance of the will reading seemed cowardly to this fighter, who had insulted Death Eaters even while under the Cruciatus.
"Because I'm in the habit of carrying everything I don't want to lose on my person," he replied evenly.
"Really?" Ginny said.
In response, he reached into his pockets, placed a handful of clutter on the table and enlarged it with a tap of his wand. The pile included a sheath of parchment, green ink, a dog-eared quill, a huge stack of letters tied together with string, a leather-bound photo album and a small, battered copy of Advanced Transfiguration. This last item, he picked up with extreme care, ran a hand along almost wistfully, and then slid across the table to Professor McGonagall.
"What…?"
"It's yours, professor. I'm sure you'll get a laugh out of it."
She shook her head. "I can't accept this. It obviously means a lot to you."
"Sirius left it to you." He sounded braver than he felt, letting go of this piece of his past, covered in Sirius and James' handwriting. "It's yours."
"He can't have meant-"
"It doesn't matter. It was bought with Sirius' money. Technically, he was only letting me use it, in the same way that all this stuff,"-he waved his hand over his meagre belongings-"is Harry's now. Keep it."
She sniffed disapprovingly, but finally picked up the textbook and slipped it into a pocket in her robes.
Hermione watched carefully as Lupin scooped up the rest of his belongings and muttered a shrinking charm over them. Nothing happened. He scowled and tried again with the same non-result. Taking pity on him, she cast the charm and the treasured items became pocket-sized again.
Waving off his thanks, she said, "Why couldn't you make the spell work?"
"The bond is fighting back the curse and there's too much magical flux in my system. I'd forgotten…"
He trailed off, and she suddenly felt breathless at the depth of sadness he exuded. Every wrinkle and grey hair stood out, the scars crossing his face ugly and fascinating, and he somehow looked less in his ripped cardigan and robes than he ever had before.
She turned to Harry, wanting his reassurance as she felt herself floundering in the depths of tonight's discoveries, but he was folding up Sirius' letter with shaking hands and she suddenly felt sure that he had not heard a word of the exchange.
"Is there anything else, sir?" he said.
His eyes were rimmed with red and his voice wavered.
"Just one more point of order, my boy," Dumbledore said. He flicked his wand and, with the loud crack of house-elf apparition, Kreacher appeared, crouching on the cluttered table top. His bloodshot eyes skittered around the room and he twisted his bat-like ears nervously.
"Kreacher," Dumbledore stated.
"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!" croaked the house-elf, stamping his feet in a juvenile tantrum and upsetting the milk jug. "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh, yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't-"
"As you can see, Harry," Dumbledore half-shouted over Kreacher's rising chorus of denial. "Kreacher shows a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."
Remus cleared his throat.
"Kreacher," he stated authoritatively.
The elf halted his croaks of protest.
He lowered his voice to sympathetic softness, ignoring the Order's gasps of surprise. "We've talked about this."
Kreacher sniffed rather pathetically and his lower lip trembled. "Kreacher won't be owned by the Potter brat. Kreacher won't."
"You don't have a choice. Sirius named Harry as his rightful heir. He's a Black now."
The elf howled. "But filthy blood-traitor boy-"
"Is your new master," Remus cut in. "And you should treat him with the proper respect."
The house-elf glowered mutinously and crossed his arms, in the very image of a sulky toddler.
"Kreacher doesn't want to serve the half-blood boy," he whined. "Kreacher wants-"
"It doesn't matter what you want! You're just a house-elf! You've already betrayed one master, Merlin only knows how! Are you going to betray Harry too?" The outburst came from nowhere, and as quickly as the anger rose it was gone, swept away in a tide of nausea and fatigue.
Hanging his head, Kreacher looked thoroughly chastened, tugging on his ratty pillowcase and shifting from foot to foot.
"Remus is right," he said. "Kreacher is sorry, Master Harry, sir. Kreacher was a bad elf."
Harry gaped. "How did you do that?"
Remus shrugged, and the bond constricted around him until he offered up a proper answer. "I grew up with house-elves."
No one seemed to know how to respond to this. At least until Andromeda rose to her feet.
"I have better things to do with my time than listen to Creatures. I will see you at the next meeting, Albus. Ted?"
Mr Tonks made his own, much politer, goodbyes. He manoeuvred his considerable girth across the crowded kitchen and squeezed out the door.
"I have potions brewing," Snape said, and followed. Kreacher popped away at the same time, at Remus' silent urging.
Molly Weasley clapped her hands together. "Right, it's late. Time for everyone to get to bed."
She ushered her brood up the staircase and Ron stomped away with barely a glance in Harry's direction, though Harry was too occupied with thoughts of Sirius' last letter to notice.
"I'll take Miss Granger back to her parents," Mad-Eye growled, magical eye lingering on the youngest Weasley boy. His wooden leg screeched across the floor as he pushed back his chair.
"I'll see you soon, Harry," Hermione whispered, wrapping him in a hug.
"Yeah," he said. "We'll arrange a get-together in a few days, right?"
He was rewarded with a glowing smile and Hermione's hair bounced after her as she disappeared into the garden.
"Do stay for some tea, Emmeline," Mrs Weasley said. "I haven't seen you and Hestia in the longest time."
The pretty witch swept a curtain of dark hair over her shoulder and smiled sadly. "I'd be happy to. Truth be told, I don't really want to be alone right now."
Silence fell round the table and Remus focused on the emotions he could sense in the air, attempting to keep his attention on his surroundings and not how much he really wanted to crawl into bed right now and sleep off his sickness. Emmeline's grief and lingering love swirled around her, ebbing and flowing as her thoughts flickered. Tonks felt similar, under an oppressed cloud, and he wondered at it. He had not thought her very close to Sirius. Harry smelled determined..
"Sirius is probably telling us all to grow up and get over ourselves," Tonks said.
"Or to kill Bellatrix stone dead," Hestia said. "Good thing we aren't all as impulsive as he was."
"I wish I was more impulsive," Emmeline said. "Then I might have told him how I felt when I saw him again."
"He wasn't ready for that," Remus added, quietly. "He wouldn't have known how to restart your relationship, or been able to handle it. Azkaban left him an emotional wreck. I spent most of last year trying to hide his whiskey bottles, for all the good that did."
"I'm sure it helped," Molly said kindly.
"No, it didn't. He'd just say 'Remus, get me some Firewhiskey'." Remus' impression was uncanny and his listeners jumped. He smiled wryly. "I hated that."
Kingsley Shacklebolt fidgeted with the sleeves of his robes. "It's almost time for my shift. Until next time, everyone."
Remus grimaced at the sudden, awkward flight, certain that he was responsible.
"Now, my boy. I really should escort you back to your relatives, before they start to worry." Dumbledore's eyes glittered with self-importance.
Suppressing a laugh at the thought, Harry said, "I wouldn't like to waste your time, professor. Lupin can take me back- we need a chat anyway."
"As long as you reach safety before you stop for that discussion."
"Understood, sir. Are you still coming to pick me up on Friday?"
Receiving an affirmative, he said his goodbyes. The shell-shocked expressions of his friends-mirroring how he felt inside- were hard to ignore. Lupin followed him outside silently, and hung back as they picked their way around chickens to get to the end of the wards. Just outside the gate, Harry halted.
"I'm not going back to live in Little Whinging," he said. "Sirius wanted me to leave. I'm going to move into Grimmauld Place."
The steely determination in his voice sounded so like James, that for a moment the veil of years dropped away and it was Remus' best friend standing in the light of the waning moon. Then he paused and added, uncertainly, "Aren't you going to lecture me about my mum and blood wards and all that rubbish?"
"No. I just have to follow along with whatever mad-cap ideas you come up with." Then, thinking that his new owner might not appreciate his rather weak attempt at humour, he added, "I do agree with you though, and Sirius would have as well. Dumbledore shouldn't be allowed to run your life, and the Fidelius charm is better than those mysterious blood wards anyway."
Harry nodded, looking satisfied. "Can you apparate me to Privet Drive to pick up my stuff?"
"I can if you make it a direct order. My magic's erratic, with the new bond, so I need an extra push just now." Now his attention had been turned back to it, the feel of Harry's magic fighting the darkness within his veins made him nauseous.
"Alright then." With no small measure of distaste, he ordered, "Take me to the Dursleys."
Five seconds later, a loud pop split the night, and the human and the werewolf disappeared.