Chapter 10 – This Little Piggy

The portrait stared at Harry and his guests defiantly with arms crossed. No longer did she scream rabidly at the slightest sound or noise. Now her venom was much more focused and she looked ready to strike at any moment.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Black. Have you forgotten our arrangement?" Harry was smiling but Hermione remembered he had a bit of the Serpent in him as well and she knew his venom was much more potent. Mrs. Black seemed aware of this. The defiance melted away and all that was left underneath was bare hatred.

"I remember quite well, Boy, but do you not feel it a touch of an insult to bring the...girl...up here to flaunt her in my very face?"

"I apologise, Mrs. Black. You are quite right." Hermione noticed that Harry was doing his best to sound very proper and formal. Harry gestured to Hermione and Ron but kept his eyes always on the portrait of Mrs. Black. "Ma'am, I have only brought them here so they know not to walk in by accident. You shall have your privacy for as long as you are here. Kreacher, and perhaps I, will be the only visitors you may expect for quite some time."

Mrs. Black spoke in a tone that would have made Snape proud. "In that case, I hope this will be a brief visit."

Hermione and Ron took in the surroundings as Harry explained, "She and I have reached an understanding." Harry gestured to the room, "When Mr. Specs' company began the renovating, their first task was to remove the portrait of Mrs. Black. They made every attempt to remove the painting. They went so far as to remove the portion of wall behind the portrait. It was useless. The portrait remained permanently fixed in the space that it had been placed. All the while, Mrs. Black screamed obscenities and curses at the workers at the top of her lungs."

"Finally, Mr. Specs called me. I visited for lunch one day and Mr. Specs explained that his crew was ready to walk from the job. He'd had two employees resign the week before and the remainder threatened to do the same if they were not reassigned." Mr. Specs nodded and Harry continued, "I attempted to have a few words with Mrs. Black. At first she'd have nothing to do with me. She screamed at me as she had done to everyone else that's passed through the doors of this house for the past five years."

"As I had every right," complained the portrait. "This is my house. The fact that my impetuous son willed this house to you is an insult and a joke. He had no right to the house. He was disinherited."

Harry sighed. "I understand how you feel. Yet, you never did disinherit Sirius legally and he did will the house to me. I have no problem accepting the house and the inheritance as your kind killed my parents and left me an orphan." The young wizard was growing angry, "Do we need to discuss your options again?"

Mrs. Black shook her head but Harry explained them anyway – this time to Hermione and Ron. "When I visited the home I gave her a choice. She could either continue to scream like a banshee and I could give up and open the home up as a Muggle Museum...perhaps place a dozen or so Muggle-Born wizard portraits with her. Hundreds of Muggles would walk through the halls and the portraits would be explained as Muggle devices meant to portray old fashioned Muggles as they spoke years ago. This would bring in curiosity seekers from around all of Muggle England." Hermione sniggered at this idea and was met with a very dirty look from Mrs. Black.

Harry continued. "Would you like to describe the more attractive option Mrs. Black?"

"Cheeky Half-Blood."

"I take that as a no," replied Harry. "Mrs. Black was given the option of being moved to a more secluded part of the house and keeping Kreacher company for the rest of his days. Once Kreacher has passed I have made arrangements with the Headmistress for Mrs. Black's portrait to be hung in one of the hallways near the Slytherin dungeons."

Ron gave a doubtful look to Harry, "But the last thing the Slytherins need is any more encouragement towards pure blood politics."

"Blood Traitor!" shouted the portrait.

Harry ignored the remark but instead gave Mrs. Black's portrait a sidelong glance while responding to Ron. "No, she has promised not to speak ill will toward Muggles, Muggle Born, or Half Bloods while hanging on the walls of Hogwarts. Instead she will simply speak only to Pure Bloods and only about the school or Slytherin. Correct, Mrs. Black?"

"Correct, you filthy little Half-Blood."

"And I also have given my word that if she does as promised that I will make sure that Grimmauld Place is sold to another Pure-Blood family." Harry paused, "Then I will build my own home."

Ron and Hermione shared a look. They'd listened but couldn't believe any of it. Hermione couldn't wrap her head around it, "So the two of you just agreed like that. And you both trust each other?"

"Yes. But I learned something else that day. A magically binding agreement can be made between a person and the shade of a person. As soon as we agreed 'on our magic' she slipped from the wall and luckily I caught her before she hit the ground."

Ron couldn't help but laugh. "That whole time, all that kept her hanging on that wall was her will?"

It was Mrs. Black that answered, "I placed a spell before my death that would attach my portrait to the wall for as long as I had a will to stay. I had no idea that Sirius would inherit the home. It was my intention to will the home to Regulus and once he died to one of my nieces."

Harry looked weary. "We've talked about this enough. What do you say we call Kreacher in and introduce him to his new quarters?"

Hermione looked around again. Much of the furniture was from the room of Regulus Black. The wardrobe that held his locket was to the right. The bed was to the left. There were a few other pieces that rounded out the collection. Even the Slytherin Crest was replicated above the bed. Hermione wondered how Mrs. Black would respond to Harry's plan.

Harry called out, "Kreacher, come here please." The crack announced his visit.

Kreacher's bullfrog voice croaked, "How may I serve you Master Harry?" Kreacher then looked around the room. He looked up at Harry, "Master Harry, what have you done with my old Master's things?"

Harry replied, "Kreacher, as part of the renovation of Grimmauld Place I have had a special place built for you. In it I have placed a few things that I thought might have some importance to you."

Kreacher looked panicked, "But this is my Master's bed. And this is my Master's wardrobe. And these are My Master's Things..." Kreacher's mind was racing. Hermione was scared that he would begin to hurt himself. "Kreacher can't sleep in his Master's room. Kreacher is a house elf. Kreacher is a good house elf and house elfs are supposed to stay where good house elfs are supposed to stay."

"Stop!" It was Mrs. Black. "Look at me Kreacher! Look into my eyes. That's right..." She stared Kreacher dead in the eyes. "Master Half Bl...Mr. Potter has asked you to stay with me to keep me company in the evenings. I have asked that my dearest boy's things be placed here with me so I can remember him. His bed was to be given to Muggles, Kreacher. Muggles. I would rather my dearest elf Kreacher sleep in my son's bed than Muggles. Will you do that for me?"

As Kreacher bowed down to Mrs. Black, Harry could see her eyes steel over and a look of venom shoot in his direction. The look was not lost on the others. Harry excused himself and walked out as Ron and Hermione followed. The last words he heard were much happier, "Do you know what Potter has promised me, Kreacher? One day soon, my portrait will be moved to Hogwarts. To Hogwarts, Kreacher..."

As Harry carefully climbed down the attic steps he wondered if what he was doing was the right thing. Mr. Specs was already busy speaking to Hermione and Ron below. Mr. Specs had forgotten their bath and had beckoned Hermione and Ron over for a look. He spoke excitedly to them as they looked inside. Harry could hear Mr. Specs' words echo back out at him but he made no attempt to look in on the presentation. "As you can see the toilet and basin is made of marble of the best quality. The room is a bit smaller than the one downstairs but it has the same amenities – the tub, the stand-in shower and the jets. This would be your personal bath, of course."

Harry saw the look that passed between Ron and Hermione as they stepped out of the bath. He now had little doubt that the two would take him up on his offer to move in eventually. Harry's biggest challenge would be to convince them that moving in would not be taking advantage.

Hermione noticed Mr. Specs make his way to a small door tucked in the corner of the stairwell. "What is that?" she asked.

Mr. Specs grinned, "The Muggles refer to it as a lift. Leviosa." With the spell he tapped the door. As soon as the lift reached the landing the door opened. The four of them fit but it was snug. "Harry, this is incredible," was all Ron could get out before Mr. Specs tapped on the entry again and they began to drop slowly.

Mr. Specs let himself out on the ground floor near the stairs. As they walked to the front door, he asked Harry, "When should we expect final payment for the work done?"

"An inspector from the Ministry will be here to visit Monday. As soon as he confirms everything is in working order, Gringotts will transfer the last payment to your vault. Monday afternoon?"

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. It has been a pleasure doing business with you sir...though most peculiar." At that, Mr. Specs disapparated a step away from the front porch with a "crack!"

Harry's birthday became a topic of general discussion amongst witches and wizards despite the fact that he had come of age the year before. The Daily Prophet began a series of stories a week before the expected event. The Prophet, in an effort to regain some of the lost subscribers after the embarrassment in June and to gather a younger audience, had followed the likes of Muggle tabloid prints and began following the actions of celebrities. Even the most mundane events in the lives of people such as Minister Shacklebolt and the Quidditch Beater Pulciver Powell. Mr. Powell was heard threatening a photographer a week before to "treat your head like a bludger if you don't get yer sodden camera out of my face."

The week long coverage of Harry began Thursday with a front page article announcing that "one week from today the 'Chosen One' will finally come of age. Harry glanced at the piece over some toast and a cup of tea while Hermione read over his shoulder. "It's grossly inaccurate Harry," was all she could say, "Is Ron ready?"

"I dunno. I haven't been up. You may want to throw a shoe at him so he's not late." He finished the article. "Keep an eye out this week for more stories about our local hero and celebrity," he read out loud to himself. Local? The Prophet circulated all across England. Ginny sat down and gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek.

Molly announced over the noise in the kitchen. "I'm making fresh eggs. Fancy some? I have bacon and toast already prepared."

"Thanks Mum." Ginny sat down next to Harry and rested her head on his shoulder. "What's that rag claiming now?"

"Next week I come of age," smiled Harry, "and I'm a local hero."

"Local to where? And you came of age last year." Ginny frowned, "They really don't let the facts get in the way of a good story, do they?"

"I sell more papers if I come of age this year."

"They'd sell more papers if they occasionally reported the truth," lamented Hermione. "I might just give up my subscription soon."

"Don't expect it to happen in my lifetime," complained Harry. "I guess I should go round up Ron. I want to get to the Ministry early today."

Once Harry was safely up the stairs the girls began whispering and giggling. Arthur walked in quickly with a bundle of papers and quickly grabbed a piece of toast before kissing Molly goodbye, "I'm late. What are the girls giggling about?"

Molly whispered, "Up to no good is my guess. Our youngest has made a point to tempt poor unsuspecting Harry any occasion she can. Any chance you might talk to her? She won't listen to a word I say and I'm near turning her to a toad until term begins."

"Now, now, Love. Remember what we were like. I'm running late. I will see what I can do tonight if I get in at a reasonable hour. I love you, Dear..." Arthur sang out as he slipped out the door and left with a "crack!"

Molly did remember what she and her husband were like. That was what worried her.

George was sitting at the table Saturday morning. Two owls flew in weighed down by cargo twice it's normal size. George attached to the owls a knut apiece and fed them each a crust of toast. Both hooted appreciatively and flew off tired but happy. He sat one copy down for Hermione and the other he opened for himself. "What's in the news today?" asked his mum.

"Mum, it looks like they have a whole section to Harry this morning. They call it the Weekend Souvenir Edition." George had the look of the devil, "Oh Mum, this is going to be too difficult to pass up. Harry's going to get the piss for this."

"Watch your mouth at the table son," Molly warned. "A Souvenir Edition? Have they gone mad? They know he's not coming of age this year. That editor Quilvash needs a talking to."

"Yeah Mum. Two pages front and back to Harry. They have a story about his parent's death and the scar. There's a story about his first year at Hogwarts. A half page is about the Triwizard Tournament with commentary from Rita Skeeter." George read a few minutes, "They have a story about us and Hermione in here. Says, 'no family has been so loyal to Harry as that of the Weasleys whom Harry befriended his first year.' Talks about Ron being his mate and a little about me and Fred but doesn't say anything about Ginny. Oh, also has a paragraph about Shacklebolt being a supporter of his when Fudge slandered him."

George continued to read. Nearly ten minutes later, he looked up at his mum, "There's a story about the 'Battle of Mysteries' and another one about Harry and Dumbledore. They are calling that night the 'Battle at the Astronomy Tower.' "

"Well, don't they just have a name for everything now?" Molly looked a bit annoyed. She stood at the stove sipping a cup of tea and was considering starting breakfast. "You hungry or are you going in early?"

"Going in as soon as I finish this. Do you mind another cup of tea though?" His attention returned to the Prophet, "Looks like they have some good sources for this stuff. Some of it sounds as if it came from Harry's or Ron's mouths. I remember some of these stories from early on nearly word for word."

She brought the kettle over and filled his cup as she looked over his shoulder at one of the articles but changed the subject, "How's the shop getting on?" She'd started asking about the shop more now that he was back home.

"It's good Mum. A little difficult to go in from time to time. I hired someone to help out. Fred though was the one that came up with the best jokes." He paused, "Mainly I've been selling things that he and I made up together. I was more the businessman."

"I'm sorry son." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now drink up and off you go." She kissed him on the cheek and slipped up to her bed where she could shed a few tears without upsetting her son.

The Sunday Prophet included another two page insert labelled Souvenir Edition focused on the year following the death of Dumbledore and ending at midnight the morning of the Battle of Hogwarts. Another two page insert. This time there was an entire two pages dedicated to the search for the Horcruxes. Until now, the public had only a limited amount of information regarding what a Horcrux was.

The Adventure at Gringotts: Secret Events Finally Revealed was an entire page narrated by Goblins and was likely not as spectacular as they made it out to be. "By then the Goblins had realized the Lestrange vault held a very dangerous artefact. Harry was pinned down by Travers and his Death Eater conspirators. The goblin Griphook, with the Sword of Gryffindor firmly in both hands, swung the sword around as he ran out of the vault toward the exit. He cleared a path for Harry who was able to make his escape. Harry ran for the Dragon and lashed its bonds away. The dragon charged the the Death Eaters and they were easily dispersed. The dragon then flew them out of the vaults and flew for two days before making a safe landing at a small loch in Scotland."

"I didn't know there was more than one Death Eater in the vaults at Gringotts," observed Molly as she read over her tea.

"There wasn't," replied Hermione, over her own copy of the Prophet. "There was just Travers and he was held by the Imperius."

"Typical Prophet," complained Ginny.

The Monday Prophet was when the big bomb shell hit.

Final Battle: Blow By Blow

"...Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me!"

"Oh no..." was all Hermione could moan.

"What's wrong Hermione?" asked Molly.

"This is not good. They somehow got a word by word account of the final duel. Likely they used a pensieve and recalled a witness's memories. It's almost as if they told the story word by word how it happened."

"What is wrong with that?" asked Molly

"During the duel the Elder Wand came up. So far as I know it hasn't been brought up until now. Harry had the wand hidden so that no-one could find it and he even had a memory charm placed on him so he wouldn't try to find it," explained Hermione.

"I don't recall what it is. I assume by the look on your face it's powerful?"

"Voldemort was convinced it was powerful enough to finally allow him to defeat Harry."

"I wonder whom he had hide it then," Molly again caught the look on Hermione's face, "Oh Dear, that is quite a secret for a lady of your age."

"I just worry for Harry. It's quite obvious from the story that Harry is the true owner of the Elder Wand. The story also makes it clear how someone might become the true owner. He will be challenged to duels by anyone and everyone. The Prophet has really stepped in it this time."

Molly was silent. She sipped her tea while Hermione continued to read. "Oh my," continued Hermione. "They've done some research. They wrote an article on the wand listing all of the known owners and the means each gained or lost the wand. They've made this out to be the ultimate weapon."

Molly stood up, "Send a Patronus to Shacklebolt now. Have him meet me here in an hour. Have Ginny make breakfast for the others and no-one leaves the home."

An hour later the Burrow kitchen was full. The Minister stood pacing while Harry, Hermione and several Weasleys sat at the table eating. Harry tried to keep a straight face when Ginny asked him how he liked his eggs. Ron was more forthcoming, "They are runny and...Oomph..." Harry had nearly took the breath out of him with an elbow to the rib.

"She didn't say where she was going?" asked the Minister for what seemed like the tenth time.

"No, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. My guess is that she wishes to speak about the article in the Prophet," repeated Hermione for what also seemed like the tenth time.

"She probably wants to discuss what options are available to finally put them in their place," lamented Ginny, "Anyone want bacon?"

"No!" answered several in the room.

"Harry, you might ought to have her take a cooking lesson or...oomph" whispered Ron. This time Harry struck gold and Ron was sucking wind. From the kitchen Ginny smiled.

The Burrow went silent as the occupants heard a "crack" and then several strange noises outside. Everyone strained to hear what was happening.

"You have no right to force me here. This is considered kidnapping. We had every right to print those stories. The public has a right..."

"...To the truth!" responded Mrs. Weasley. The door flew open and a very scared looking pig of a man flew in, "Minister, thank goodness you are here! You must help me. This woman is mad."

The bloke couldn't have been taller than Ginny. When Shacklebolt stood straight the editor cowered, "Quilvash, you might consider whom you are speaking to. As you know, Mrs. Weasley struck down Bellatrix on her own. I'd wager a Galleon to a Knut she'd make a quick end to you if properly provoked."

"I only printed the truth. The public deserves to know."

"You only printed what would sell papers!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, "This poor boy had done nothing but good and all you can do is alternate between slandering him and treating him like a pony to be shown off. You know good and well that he came of age last year. You've spent the past several days celebrating a non-event so that you could sell more of that rubbish that you print." Molly pulled out her wand and pointed it at Quillvash, "And now you endangered the boy by making it public that he is the owner of the most powerful wand in the Wizard World and that it is free for the taking by merely duelling him for it."

Harry wondered why he hadn't thought about the wand until now. He couldn't quite remember where it was but he was sure that it was safe. Moments later he blinked and was distracted by Quillvash's rudeness toward Molly.

"I'll have every Sickle you own for this!" barked Quillvash. "But I suspect that isn't much. You wouldn't dare do anything to me. I'm a respected member of the community. I'll have this...this...hovel!"

The anger in Harry had built steadily. At the insult to the Burrow he stood up with wand out and he pushed the man to the wall, "Won't dare do anything to you? Won't dare do anything to you? You print lies about me day after day? You pandered to Voldemort himself? Now you insult the witch I hold most dear in my heart and in her home? I assure you that she has enough decency in her that she'd have difficulty harming you but I on the other hand have nearly reached my limit. Cruci-"

Harry stopped mid-spell shocked at himself for what he had almost done. The others in the room held a collective breath. He looked down at the little pig of a man who now grinned triumphantly. Less than a second later the man was writhing on the floor holding his nose and screaming in pain. As blood ran down the man's shirt he screamed curses at Harry. Harry was holding his hand in pain but he felt strangely satisfied.

"Harry, if you are to train as an Auror you must learn to think before acting. Next time, please try not to use your wand hand," advised the Minister.