Hello there!
Thank you for all your awsome reviews! I love you guys! This chapter is the longest yet and I hope you like it! Let me know :) Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. I do not make any money off of this story.
RedMamba
Harry woke to the sound of Demele apparating into his room. She was as the head-elf allowed to pop into the room of the Head of House Potter, no matter their gender. He startled and had to calm his heart before he turned to look at the house-elf. She was apologising exuberantly with tears in her big eyes something she had in common with Dobby, Harry noticed, smiling while he waved the apologies aside, assuring that he wasn't angry with her. It seemed that this characteristic was one the house-elves had somehow ingrained.
"Is Master Potter wantings to see the house?" Her eyes gleamed expectantly and were sparkling with joy.
Harry nodded, equally excited as the house-elf. He followed her down, noticing all the empty frames and closed doors. He asked her about the pictures and she said, he'd see once they reached the family room. Harry was confused at this, but was not going to spoil the surprise.
They reached the entrance hall and it was gorgeous. The wood gleamed in the sunshine, but was not blinding, the walls were invitingly white and everything just seemed to be at the right place. Harry immediately felt at home. This was truly beautiful and inviting, not artificial and cold. Demele led him to a door with intricate vines on it, they seemed so alive Harry was almost surprised they didn't move. As he opened the door he was greeted by four pairs of eyes. Three belonging to big, yellowish green eyes of house-elves and one grey, haunted pair. Sirius sat there with the elves and had waited for him to come down. They sat around a small table in what seemed to be the kitchen. Seeing as the table was scantly big enough for the elves and two wizards, there had to be a dining room somewhere, too.
"Good morning, Master Potter" "…Ma'ter Potter" the elves said cheerfully. Sirius went for a less formal "Good morning, Harry". Demele urged him to take a seat and eat the breakfast with his guest. Harry noticed the hidden test within, the head elf was testing his abilities to be polite in front of a guest and treat the guest nicely.
"Demele, I really don't care much to be treated as guest. After all I've taken temporary residence here, again. Plus, I am" here his eyes searched Harry's and the boy, guessing what Sirius was asking for, nodded. "family."
It felt good. Warm. The way Sirius had said family, as if that was how things had to be. They were family, Harry thought and almost giggled. Here sat a member of his family, his family-family, not the Weasley-family, although he thought of them as family, too. This was Sirius, his godfather, chosen by his parents. It ranked a bit higher.
Demele huffed, but seemed content. The elves brought their breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast, wholemeal bread, butter and jam and orange juice, milk or tea. It briefly crossed Harry's mind that the elves had to go buy the food the day Sirius had arrived, the day before yesterday, and had bought the food in the night. There had to be a system there, too. It surprised Harry for the umpteenth time in this short time after hearing his parents' will how little he knew of the wizarding world, in which he held an influential position no less.
They ate in silence, that is until Harry made a catastrophic error. He told the elves that the breakfast was fabulous. The elves stopped dead in their tracks and Harry was going over his comment, looking for anything insulting.
He needed not search for anything negative, for the elves soon were thanking him and the other female, Randa, Harry guessed, was threatening to burst into tears. They looked so grateful and somehow proud. It was Demele, who took it upon herself to speak.
"Thank you very much, Master Potter. It is so long that last Mater Potter has liveds here and now Master Potter is so nice to us, we are very honoured to be your elves," she said and all four bowed low, thanking him. Harry smiled at that. "Can Demele shows you around?"
"Yes, please."
They, Harry, Demele and Sirius, left the kitchen, where they had eaten and went into the corridor Harry had come down earlier. It seemed that the corridor actually was more of an entrance hall, the staircase leading upstairs just right of the entrance doors. The place was big, just how big Harry hadn't imagined. Honestly said, had someone told him just how big his manor was he would have outright laughed and told the person to go check in St. Mungo's if there was anything wrong in their heads. Demele led them to a room in the west wing, the entrance to the manor was north. When the house-elf opened the door, Harry was greeted by many voices. They came from a painting as wide and high as the wall opposite the door, there in the frame Harry saw many familiar faces. Faces he had seen in the Mirror of Erised. His family. Those he had blood ties to in the magical world. He was overwhelmed. Then he saw them, in the right corner, leaning against something.
"Mum? Dad?"
His mother's brilliant green eyes shone with love. "Harry, we are so proud of you. Sirius has told us what you've told him. We couldn't be prouder!"
Harry was keeping tight control on himself, else he would have been a sobbing mess by now. He smiled at his mother, then his father came to the centre of the picture and bent down, as far as that was possible for a portrait.
"Lilyflower is right, you are truly a gem. Promise to tell us of your stories, I bet Padfoot here can't remember everything," he said and his eyes shone with mischief.
Harry couldn't help himself anymore. He stood there, crying and smiling. This was something he hadn't dared to dream about, a place where he saw his family, could talk to them and tell them what he always wanted to tell his parents. His mother said to him to go explore the house and then go right back to say how he found his house. His house.
Harry nodded, but first he looked around this room. The framed family portrait was opposite the entry and the walls were some strange shade of greenish blue. There were many branch-like things worming their way from next to the door over the whole wall. When Harry went nearer to see what it was, he was startled to find a name. Not just any name, but the name Charlus Evert Potter and it rang a bell somewhere in his mind. That had been his father's second name… The name was written on a branch of the tree, and a second joined it there, on this branch stood Dorea Auriga Potter. Their branches converged and the sprout beneath then showed the name James Charlus Potter. This was a family tree! Now the room's name – family room – made sense. Harry looked for his own name and was surprised to find it, there it stood, below the names of his parents: Harry James Potter.
He was still grinning when Demele led them through the next rooms. The dining room was dominated by the big beautiful table, made of cherry wood as Demele explained and there were exquisite chairs around the long table. It was a beautiful dining room, it was classy, but not pompous. The whole place, it seemed to Harry, was gracefully reserved. It did not flaunt with riches, but was inviting with warmth and homeliness. The drawing room was a comfy place, it reminded Harry a bit of the Gryffindor common room, but it was much bigger with more coffee tables and couches and it had a picture window, with a glass door, that let into a wonderful garden. In some distance Harry could see… six goalposts? Was there a Quidditch pitch down there?
"Yes, the Potter's own Quidditch pitch. We can play sometimes, if you want to?" Sirius next to him asked, having seen where Harry was looking.
Harry nodded vigorously. "Are there brooms? I have one, but I doubt you do. And, are there some Quidditch balls?"
Sirius laughed and gave a positive answer for both, the brooms and the balls. While the pitch may not be the original size and the poles a bit lower, but after all it was still a Quidditch pitch.
They left the drawing room and Demele led them through the library, where also unused parchment, quills and ink was stored in some drawers in one cupboard. There was one quite big table in there, surrounded by seven chairs. Here one could work well, Harry thought. The books didn't seem as ancient and hard to read as those in the library vault. Harry guessed that in here were more practical, every-day books and looking over some shelves he found children's books from both magical and Muggle world and more books, that were not academic. Then Demele opened a door inside the library and there was the next room. But, what was it?
This room was something like a laboratory, study, classroom and kitchen combined. There stood some tables similar to those they brewed potions on in Hogwarts and further back was a desk where charts depicting star constellations, numerological charts, runic charts and much more that didn't make any sense to Harry – yet, were. There was a narrow window running along the edge of the room, where the wall and ceiling met. There were no cupboards for any ingredients and Harry guessed the door to his right was leading him into something like a basement. They didn't go through that door, though, but went back outside.
Demele opened that door, one right to the laboratory. It was a staircase leading down and another joining from the right later on, Harry had been right with his assumption of the basement. There were torches on the wall, no windows. As soon as their feet touched the first step their way was blocked. Demele explained the staircase now needed to hear where they were heading.
"The wine-cellar," Sirius said, madly grinning. At Harry's shocked look he explained: "They had some very rare beverages there, you as the master of the house should at least know what you have in your cellar. And I guess you can access this cellar from the kitchen or dining room, too."
Before Harry could answer from downstairs came a rumble. The floor didn't shake, but Harry was sure it would have if there wasn't magic involved. Then it came to a halt and they could go downstairs.
The wine-cellar was impressive, even though Harry didn't know most of the drinks and couldn't drink seven eights of it. There were racks filled with what seemed to be red wine, others filled with white wine, at least four racks with Firewhiskey and others filled with Butterbeer. Then again there were racks full of bottles Harry had never seen before. His eager house-elf ushered him upstairs again, but didn't go outside yet.
"There are three more rooms in the basement. The wine-cellar Master Potter has seens, the ingredients stock, which is only accessible from the laboratory, the food cellar and a wish-room, which is only accessible from the library" she explained. At Harry's quizzical nod she continued. "The wish-room can be everything a room is. It can be big, it can be small, it can even be a room that is not founds."
"How do I call it?"
"Master Potter has to thinks of how he wants the room."
Harry thought about a place, where you could practice spells and mock-fights. Something like a duelling room, but also with enough space to just sit there and read about a spell and then learn it. At best somewhere he could do magic without the ministry finding out. The floor rumbled again and this time it was louder, heavier. Harry thought he heard chains snap and clatter onto a floor he couldn't see and had the slightest sensation that there was warmth rushing upstairs. Finally it stopped and he went down, Sirius curiously following him.
It was exactly a room like Harry had pictured it. There was a carped on the floor as big as the duelling platform they had used last year and also a beanbag, some lights and – what were those…
"Duelling mannequins? You've got a strange taste, Harry," Sirius mused from next to him and then went to look at one. "Hey! I remember these! They look like those we used in Auror training."
"You were an Auror?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Not directly, I was a hit-wizard. Same training though, only a bit more violence than an Auror uses," Sirius answered, searching for the 'On' button. "While an Auror will just petrify you, bring you in a holding cell and ask you questions, a hit-wizard will stun you at the least and then tie you up with magic suppressing bonds, then bring you directly to the trial and force-feed you Veritaserum." Harry noticed a shadow passing over Sirius' eyes, but didn't ask. Then he looked puzzled at his godfather, who explained: "Truth serum. Will force you to tell the truth to whatever is asked of you. Though that's a bit exaggerated, but there is a difference between the two."
He had found the button and put the mannequin on 'simple, non-lethal', wanting to see how good he was. Sirius although had forgotten one key point in fighting with magic: a wand. His had been confiscated, if not broken, when he was imprisoned, he didn't have one. The mannequin chased him around and Sirius, knowing he wasn't able to perform wandless magic – yet? –, was dodging the jinxes and hexes.
"Stop it, Harry! I haven't got a wand!" he called over after he felt he had dodged enough, he still had pretty good reflexes, Sirius noticed proudly, he'd been only hit once with a weak stinging spell. He couldn't even feel it anymore.
Harry jumped into action and yelled the first spell that came to his mind: "Expelliarmus!"
The red jet of light crashed right to where the mannequin shot the jinxes out, he held no wand, as a wand wouldn't choose a non-living thing as its owner, and immediately it stopped shooting. Docilely it rolled back to the other two mannequins, where it came to a halt and didn't move anymore.
"Cool," Sirius commented, grinning. "Your spellwork and accuracy are quite good, though your technique could use some polishing. Can I teach you?"
"Eh, really? You want to? That would be great!" Harry exclaimed and wanted to discuss with Sirius further when he felt a shift in the mood in the room. He turned around to see his house-elf. Demele, head house-elf of the Potter family, didn't find it even remotely funny or 'cool' what had happened here. This was only emphasized when there was a hollow clang and Sirius clutching his head. The house-elf stood there, frying pan in hand and a murderous look in her big eyes. The pan was obviously conjured, as it was more used for the sound, not actually for bodily harm (although Demele looked ready to beat Sirius unconscious then and there…).
"Mister Black will refrains from doings things like this. Mister Black is still not healeds and is not ready to fights, yet. Teaching is okay, but Mister Black cannot fights himself!" Both wizards nodded, wondering though why she had hit him if he wasn't healed yet, and followed 'the holder of the frying pan' upstairs. Harry shot his godfather a glance and saw the older wizard grin.
Once upstairs both couldn't help it and giggled like mad. They had seen all the rooms downstairs and now headed up, where the bedrooms were, still laughing. There were several guest rooms, all on the northern side of the house. Each room had its own bathroom, but some had a joining door between the bedrooms. Sometimes there had been a guest with children that had slept in another room, so the doors were put there. Those doors were always locked and only Demele and Harry had the permission to open them and give the person asking the key.
Then there were the family bedrooms. There were only two of them, plus the Master's bedroom. The Potter family had always been quite small, so they didn't need much more space. Harry pointed out that there were still some doors unopened, and Demele told him happily that those were the rooms of almost-family members. Sirius' room was one of them and there were two more of the sort. They had been designed when James' friends had often stayed whole vacations in the Potter Manor. The last room upstairs was a lounging room. It was more or less an informal drawing room, just for family and close friends.
From a corner of the hallway Demele brought them one floor up. The staircase was hidden behind a small door, through that they went up and into the attic. It was more of an owlery, though. Harry saw two unfamiliar owls. He heard a hoot, shriller, but deeper than that of Hedwig. He turned around and saw a majestic eagle owl sitting on a perch in the shadows. Right next to it sat a smaller owl, maybe a screech owl, sleeping deeply.
"The family owls: Zeus, the eagle owl, and Hypnos, the screech owl," Demele explained. "Their parents died some years ago, but Zeus and Hypnos are still young."
Harry nodded, not wanting to disrupt the sleeping Hypnos. They went back downstairs into the drawing room. On one of the coffee tables stood two cups of tea and some biscuits, a house-elf must have known when they returned and put up this small snack.
"This is the Potter Manor, Master. Does Master Potter has any questions?" Demele told him.
"Not right now, Demele," he answered. "I'll come and find you if I have any. Thank you."
The house elf smiled and then popped away, of course after bowing. Sirius and Harry stood there, both lost in their thoughts. Harry was absorbed in his own thoughts and suddenly he felt something else be in his head… or in a place within his mind. It didn't feel quite like the pressure that was described in the book "Blood Based Spells" when someone was trying to intrude into your mind, it was more a constant throb in the back of his brain. It was cold and cruel, but Harry felt he knew it and he knew he was safe with it. He was rubbing the spot when Sirius noticed his godson being strangely quiet.
"Everything okay, Harry?"
Harry snapped out of his thoughts and it was that moment when the feeling disappeared. "Yeah… I just had the feeling someone was in my mind…"
Sirius seemed concerned. "Like reading your mind? Could you push them out?"
"It went away when you spoke to me… and I don't think it was trying to harm me."
"Shall I take a look? I can use Legilimency, a bit. You heard of it?" Harry nodded. "Good, I promise I won't go deep, I'll just look if there is anything suspicious on the outside?"
"Please do."
Harry nodded his readiness and looked his godfather in the eyes. He felt the pressure and Sirius burst through. Harry hadn't started yet with Occlumency, but he thought that maybe Sirius could help him, seeing as he could do the sister skill.
Then there was something that shocked Sirius and Harry, though not for the same reasons.
Something dark was blocking Sirius' way and it made the man quiver; he felt fear creep into his veins and search for anything painful it could show him. It was big and strong and so, so cold, a shield like no other he had seen or read about. It pushed him outside with brute force and left a sour taste in his mind. He came back to his senses and saw that he had collapsed on the floor. He was breathing hard. It was similar to the presence of a Dementor. The horrors of Azkaban were thrumming behind his eyes. He was fighting hard not to curl up and retreat into the furthest parts of his mind as he had so often done in the prison.
Harry though was shocked to see that there was a shield he didn't know of protecting his mind. He had seen as if standing next to it how it had pushed Sirius out. It had been strangely familiar, but Harry didn't know from where he remembered it. Then its clothing had fluttered and a corner touched Harry's knee. The memories came rushing: the dark leading him through dreamscapes and preventing him from falling into a pit of despair. He looked at it, but there was no face, just a hole where its head should be, a crown of blackness floating eerily in mid-air, its outline invisible for it didn't reflect light. Suddenly its wide, coldly glimmering wings spread and it told Harry in its dark thundering voice that he shouldn't fear anyone intruding his mind, the dark would protect him. Harry understood and thanked it.
"That was interesting," Sirius said when he had regained his footing. He still felt the urge to run as far away as possible from that black thing, though he didn't feel its presence anymore.
Harry was still absent, but when he finally snapped out of it he stared blankly at Sirius. "What was that?"
Sirius shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea. Did you find something out about it?"
"It won't hurt me, it said it would protect me."
"That's enough for me. Now, how about we drink that tea and see what we'll do the remaining time until lunch? The weather looks as if its turning and the grounds are much more beautiful when it's sunny."
Just as Sirius said that there was a soft knock on the window they stood in front, the sky truly seemed to darken and many thick clouds were already on their way of blocking the sun. Both heads turned to look at what was there and they were positively surprised to see the beautiful snowy owl Harry had gotten as a birthday present two years ago, Hedwig. She had a letter in her beak that looked way too formal for Harry's liking. Harry opened the glass door and let Hedwig hop in. She didn't seem fazed by the new environment, but then she had always been a bright one and this time she probably knew that this was Harry's home. She laid the letter in Harry's outstretched hand and then flew again outside, as if she had a goal in mind.
"Your owl seems to know where she's going," Sirius remarked.
Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and opened the letter. He was sure that Hedwig wouldn't bring him anything dangerous. It read:
Dear Harry
Have you read today's Daily Prophet? If not, you'll be surprised that it states that you have taken the Potter lordship. Due to this Gran would like to have you over for a little chat… sorry, I couldn't bring her to reconsider. She said something about the Longbottoms having been allied to the Potters for a long time and she wanted to see if you'd still accept us as such. I'm really sorry this comes so fast.
By the way, where is the Potter Manor? Gran said something that it's near to ours, but I've never seen a manor around here. I know it's probably heavily warded, but invisible? You have quite strong wards around it, it seems.
Does your offer for a day in Diagon Alley still stand? If so, I'd like to go with you there to shop for the books needed this year. Seeing as you were already there I guess you have them… can I borrow your booklist? I seem to have lost mine…
Here Harry chuckled. It was so Neville to lose his list and he would gladly share with the other boy and get to know him better. Not as allies, but as family. After all Neville's mum was Harry's godmother and he would like to know the family. Harry also found it strange that Neville had never mentioned his parents… maybe they could talk about that, too.
As for the date, how about in a week? So the 20th August we go to Diagon Alley. Gran said you could come over the 19th and stay here for the night… you don't have to, at all, but we'd be happy if you came.
Best regards
Neville Longbottom,
heir to the Longbottom family,
signed 13th of August
"Way too formal for my taste, Neville," Harry muttered to the letter. He folded it and put it into his pocket, he would write the answer later.
"Can I ask who wrote to you?" Sirius chimed in, sitting on the couch and sipping his tea.
"Mhm, Neville Longbottom. He wrote that I'm invited over for a chat with his Gran," Harry explained and looked up at Sirius. "She said something about us being allies. I need to know how to behave by then!"
"Yes, you do. Augusta is quite stern when it comes to that, but we'll get you there, milord," Sirius said and made a mock-bow, it looked ridiculous while he sat there. "That's what we're going to do now!"
Sirius started with very basic things, such as be polite, look the others in the eye when they speak and when you speak, when talking with your elders let them make the first move, but then it became increasingly difficult for Harry. Seeing as the Potter family had a high standing and were one of the top pureblood families, Harry had to memorize with whom he could use which title.
"So, wait a second. I am in 'pureblood hierarchy' higher than the families Prewett, Abbot and Greengrass. This means I can address their heirs however I want, of course nothing insulting, and can use the first name of the person I'm speaking to if it's an adult and I know the name, after the title Lord or Lady?" Sirius nodded and Harry continued: "The families Selwyn, Malfoy, and Longbottom are on par with me, and you come to how I have to act around them in a moment?" Sirius nodded again. "Then all the other families are in the hierarchy higher than I am? And what about the Weasleys? They are pureblooded, too, I guessed. Do they stand higher? Oh Merlin, what have I done?"
"Calm down." Sirius laughed at the antics of his godson, Harry was working himself awfully stressed. "The rest aren't higher than you and I oversimplified the whole thing, I just didn't bombard you with all the names. The Weasleys are seldom counted in listings, since they've been labelled as blood-traitors for who-knows-how-long, but as you're friends with them… I guess they would rank lower than you. The only ones considered higher are the Blacks, of which I am the last male with the surname, but not the last male with Black-blood. Then there are the founders' families, but they should hardly concern you, since no one has claimed any of those lordships and wizarding public isn't aware of any heir, except for Voldemort being Salazar Slytherin's heir?" It was Harry's turn to nod. "And he's not considered nor does the public know, because of obvious reasons, plus he's declared dead. The other higher ranking family being Peverell, as they are older than any other, but those have died out too," Sirius said.
"Oh, I get that lordship, too, once I'm of age and if I claim it," Harry mentioned.
Sirius looked surprised at him, James hadn't told him of this. "Well, that makes you equal to any family out there. I don't know about the founders, but to anyone else you're equal or higher. Though I don't know why the Potter family wouldn't have taken that lordship long ago…"
Harry just shrugged and this prompted Sirius to continue with his explanations. "Well, you should know first that with equal standing families it is a bit tricky, especially for you. If an elder of such a family talks to you, you'll have to show respect as if it was a higher ranking family. The tricky part here is, that the Potters are currently not considered very high standing, because there is no one who could claim any seats. But since you've taken the title Head of House and have claimed the Potter lordship, though, they have to treat you equally, although many won't because you're underage. Their children are another story, though…"
Harry listened closely how he had to behave around those. It was a bit different to the lower ranking families and it was only confusing Harry. He was supposed to shake hands with all of them, but never if the person he would be shaking with was older (or ranked higher) and didn't make the first step. Though with their children he should shake hands too and there Harry had to interrupt Sirius' monologue.
"What if I decline to shake hands?"
"Why would you do that? That would mean as much as you don't recognize the person as your equal and that he has to prove his intentions before you're even thinking about accepting his, er, friendship. Did you do that to someone?"
Harry gulped. "Yes, on my first train ride to Hogwarts. Malfoy wanted to offer his so-called friendship by shaking hands and I declined…"
"That's not entirely bad, though. As he is heir to the Malfoy name he should have been able to see that you haven't claimed anything, so you didn't directly insult him. Though that may be a reason he hates you," Sirius said, grinning. "Had you done that knowing what it meant, it would be a different story altogether. Same goes for any heir you may have insulted unknowingly. An heir can feel through the heir ring if the other person has one, too. This though didn't stop them from being offended, they probably thought you knew everything, but haven't claimed anything. Plus, some families don't let their heirs get the ring until they're of age, don't ask me why."
Harry sighed partly relieved. This was good, because had those things he'd said and done the last two years actually been his portrayal of his family name, he would want to be swallowed into the ground, now. He knew though, that he'd had his chances with the Slytherins, they took behaviour awfully serious. Sirius proceeded teaching him what was expected of him, until an elf popped into the room to announce that lunch was ready.
The wizards went into the kitchen, saying that the large dining room wasn't necessary for only two of them and the elves complied. The food was delicious and Harry thought that his house-elves could easily enough give whomever cooked in Hogwarts a run for his money. When he thought about it he didn't really know who did all the chores that surely such a huge castle produced. He decided he'd ask Sirius once they finished.
They had gone back to the drawing room and just settled down when the first thunder rolled over the house. Soon enough the rain was falling hard and one couldn't see further than some steps. It was the perfect moment to do something productive.
"Sirius? Who does all the work in Hogwarts?" Harry continued on his former thought.
Sirius looked up from his musings and turned his head away from the window. "House-elves. I guess that was mentioned in some book." He chuckled. "You aren't the bookish one, are you?" Harry laughed and declined.
"You're in third year this year, right? What electives have you taken?"
Seeing that an adult was actually interested in what he did in school was a whole new experience for Harry and, to be honest, he rather liked the attention he got from his godfather.
"Care of Magical Creatures and Divination," he said.
"Divination? Surely not?" Sirius asked surprised. Had any of his parents or ancestors had the Gift?
"I did, with Ron." He didn't need to explain who Ron was, Sirius knew from his stories. "We didn't really give it much thought, though."
At that Sirius laughed. "I guess so, because Divination can't be learnt. Either you are a seer or you aren't. If you allow me to propose something, I'd much rather you take Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. They can be used, whereas Divination is, sorry, useless."
Harry really didn't know that to predict the future can't be learnt and he had the distinctive feeling that he couldn't predict to save his life. He leant back into the couch, from the corner of his eye he saw movement in one frame, hanging inconspicuously next to the fireplace and then he heard his mother's voice.
"Sirius is right. I took Arithmancy and Runes, your father did Muggle Studies and Runes. I bet that if you want and ask nicely, McGonagall will change your electives," she said. His father nodded from her side, although he wasn't completely in the frame yet.
"Absolutely. Lilyflower here was the best when it came to Arithmancy, Sirius didn't stand a chance against Lily," James then joined in, laughing at Sirius' flustered expression. "There are some books on both in the library. You can take a look and decide then."
Harry nodded and thanked his parents. He went out and searched the library for a while, then he found the door with runic inscriptions and opened the door. He walked to a portrait of an ancestor, who sat upon a throne of books. That seemed to be the librarian, Harry thought with a chuckle. The man enthusiastically gave him directions and seemed happy that he could show the heir his way through the library. Harry thanked Ian, the Potter bookworm (the only in hundred and fifty years to be a Ravenclaw) and painted librarian, and then went to get the books.
When he came back Sirius was talking with his parents and nursing a cup of tea, a second cup stood on the coffee table. Harry grinned and then opened the book on Arithmancy.
He didn't understand a word what was written and it was a beginner's book. He did get that the numerology could be used for different things, prediction for example, but then the details… he was hopelessly lost. Harry hoped to have more luck with Runes. And truly, he did have more luck there. It seemed so wonderfully easy for Harry. It was more linking power (the runes) with your will than anything else. Harry somehow just saw how those runes would give most of their power possible. He rather quickly decided to take this instead of Divination.
"Look at that, something you've got from both of us," James laughed from his place in the picture when Harry told them his decision. "Padfoot, don't you think he's brilliant?" he cooed then to Sirius.
"I agree, Prongsie dearest," Sirius laughed. "Then I suggest you write dear Minnie a letter, she isn't too fond of Divination either; she'll let you drop the class."
"But don't write for Minnie she won't do anything, and she'll know from whom you got such an idea," Lily said to him, while she looked disapprovingly at James and Sirius, well, as disapproving as her painted eyes could.
Harry grinned at his parents' and godfather's antics, but did as Sirius said, while he tried hard not to blush from what his father and Sirius had said (his father was still going on about how wonderful he was… this didn't absolutely correspond with the image Harry had of his father), not really knowing if they were serious.
He went back into the library to fetch a bit of parchment, a quill and ink. There was that wonderful cupboard filled with all he needed. He was soon back in the drawing room writing his letter to Professor McGonagall. Sirius was reading over his shoulder what he wrote and gave here and there a tip to how he should put the words, as to make it near impossible to turn his request down. At the end Harry had written nearly seven inches worth of parchment to ask if he could please change his electives. Divination should go and Ancient Runes should be in its stead. He sealed the letter and went up to the attic. Harry clearly wasn't used to having house-elves, it didn't even cross his mind that he could say to any of his four elves that the letter needed to be sent.
There on a beautiful perch sat his wonderful snowy owl, who hooted softly when Harry came up and flew over to him. Harry gave her the letter and said to whom it was, Hedwig looked at him as if she'd known that already and then took off. She flew through a window – only that there wasn't a pane – and left. Harry noticed that it was quite warm inside and the rain couldn't enter, there had to be some one-way charm instead of a window pane.
He went back to the drawing room, where he went to answer Neville's letter. He had to ask Sirius how to word it so when Lady Longbottom read it, she would see that Harry took her offer of a chat serious and also their relationship as allies. In the end he was quite happy, it was not so long as the letter to McGonagall – that may be because Sirius had influenced Harry more in that first letter, not that Harry knew – but very formal without being cold.
Again Harry went to the attic/owlery. He looked at Zeus and decided to use him, Hedwig being on her way to Hogwarts and for formal reasons the eagle-owl may be better suited.
"Zeus, come here," he called the owl. "I have a letter for you for Lady Longbottom."
The eagle-owl looked at him, but then came flying over to him. Zeus was big, Harry noticed, really big and blackish brown. He stood in front of a dark screen, and then the owl took the letter in its beak and flew off, with lazy, slow and big movements of his wings.
Harry went back downstairs and listened to stories of his parents they themselves or Sirius told, when the paintings hadn't been given the story to give on. Time for dinner came surprisingly early and they ate again a wonderful meal, what Harry pointed out to his elves and he saw with delight how the elves were proud of themselves.
After dinner Harry decided to go into the lounge room upstairs and Sirius came with him. His parents had their original portrait there; something Harry had missed on his earlier house-tour. A fire flickered in the fireside, its crackling harmonising with the patter of the rain and the warmth creeping around them. Sirius sat in an armchair, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey (he had even asked Harry if he could take one) and looking into the flames. He looked old and haunted, but his eyes now shone with a newfound strength.
"I'll go to bed… it's starting again," Sirius said sighing, gulped his whiskey down and left the room.
Before Harry could ask what exactly had started again, he had left the room and closed the door. Shrugging Harry turned back to the fire. His parents were quietly watching him, conversing in that way only a married couple could. The flames were happily dancing and Harry wasn't tired at all, so he decided to call Demele. Not much later he was half lying in the couch, reading the book on family spells. When he groaned after reading for quite the while, his father looked up.
"Is that about family magic?" James asked.
Harry nodded. "Yes, it is. It tells more about how to protect the mind as far as I have read. Though I hardly know anything about family magic."
Harry smiled sadly, but was surprised to see his father having left the frame. Lily still stood in it and was grinning. "What is it?"
"Oh, I think your father just went to ask for permission to give you a briefing in Potter family magic," she said. "And here he is, I'll take my leave then. I'm not a Potter by birth and they're adamant about only letting the family know. Sleep well, Harry."
"Thank you, mum," he answered and watched her leave the frame. It struck him as odd that she had to leave the painting, after all she wouldn't be able to tell any secrets…
"Sorry for leaving you, son," James then said, appearing out of nowhere. "We've always been awfully secretive of our family magic. No one who's not born a Potter has ever learnt it or heard of it, even if we're pictures… do you know what family magic is?"
"I think it's a type of magic that only one family can do. Somehow the blood of the family is suited to it, or something…"
"Exactly. That's usually a reason for those stuck up purebloods to intermarry. It keeps the magic stronger, but Muggleborns usually bring a new strength with them and that's not widely known," James elaborated. He was rubbing his chin and eyeing his son up. "Well, and the Potters have been able to keep the magic so secret, that no one outside the family knows. There are some other families, who have succeeded in the same, but most people know what kind of magic they are marrying into."
"Why is it so important to even keep the sort of magic unknown?" Harry asked. Wouldn't that jeopardise their position?
"Because the Potters'," James began. He looked around and when he was sure no one was hearing he finished: "magic is warding. There are no wards, except maybe those around Hogwarts that a Potter is not able to strengthen or weaken. Potter manor is still in lockdown, which is the reason no one is able to see it, even though you're here. You will have to take control of the wards before anyone else can enter."
Harry nodded. If the family magic was that strong he saw the need in protecting it. "What does it mean that the manor is in lockdown?"
"Actually it means that no one is able to enter, except a Potter. You had luck with Sirius, because he's keyed into the wards from before. Anyone else would have ended up in St. Mungo's," James said, smiling lightly.
"Can someone teach me the warding?"
"Yes, your grandfather will do. His portrait hangs in the warding room that is one of the rooms the wish-room can become. The reason we have to keep it secret, is because warding can be learnt and the Potter wards can be made by people, who aren't Potters. It will make them weaker, but the family magic will lose some of its strength," James told him. As he watched Harry he saw that the young wizard was growing tired, but was still attentive. He decided it would be best, if Harry slept and concerned himself with the family secrets at another time. "Now, we can talk later about it. You've had quite a long day and I believe you're tired."
Harry made to protest, but when he saw his father's amused look – clearly from remembering being told the same thing by his parents and refuting their claim – he thought it best to comply.
"I did," Harry said smiling. "I hope you're going to tell me much more! Good night, dad."
"Good night, Harry."
It really was late as the clock on Harry's bedside table showed. It was almost midnight when Harry looked the last time, before he turned over and fell asleep. Dreaming, once again.
It fluttered. The dark was excited, somehow. He saw it across from him. The figure with its lightless crown on a non-existent head. It reached out for him, its hand skeletal, black fume swirling around it. He took the hand. That was the moment, when the dreamscape changed. It became organized. The bottomless pit was still there, ominously looming underneath the pinnacle where he stood upon. The dark floating next to him.
The full moon glowed on a side, the reddish black castle of rock stood also there. Then he saw many new places. There was a swamp, eerie green smoke around it, beckoning him to stay out but call other people in. Then there was an orb, much like the one with the prophecy, where different coloured light bouncing merrily in it. He feared it, or the dark feared it, he wasn't so sure. The lights were dangerous, he knew it. The dark asked him, if he wanted to go there. He said he did, even though he knew he shouldn't. The dark took him there and the orb dulled, the lights moved slower. He knew there was something strange about it, but couldn't point his finger on it.
"It's okay. I'll go now," he told the dark and it brought him to the end of the dream.
