The next day is bone dry, like all of the moisture has been sucked out of the air. There's not a cloud in the sky and the temperature shoots up, accompanied by a pitiful breeze that does nothing to cool anyone off. Whatever puddles had been left over from the storm are long gone by mid-morning. By noon, the ground has cracked. In the midst of this heatwave, Harry sits down in the kitchen and rereads the letter Hedwig delivered yesterday. He has dark circles under his eyes, the product of a night without sleep. Hermione's actions hurt him more than just physically- she's made him question his friendship with her.
Dear Mr. Potter, my name is Andromeda Tonks. You met my daughter, Nymphadora, when she helped you return home from the debacle with the Hogwarts Express. I do hope you are alright and have no lasting injuries, nor any friends that are in recovery. When she took you home, Nymphadora, for lack of a better term, propositioned you as to talking up your own house magics and extending a claim on the House of Black's. Her response was that you seemed amenable, but that you had some reservations, mostly not knowing what you are getting yourself into. I hate to push you into taking up your house duties so early, but the Malfoy's will stop at nothing to gain power, and I really would not like to see my old house fall into such ill repute. Therefore, I am writing this letter as an introduction and opening a line of communication. Feel free to reply by owl or drop by my husband's practice. He runs a mixed law firm, catering to both muggle and magical clientele, situated down the street from the leaky cauldron. His name is Ted, and his office is Trunks and Tonks. I look forward to hearing from you!
Andromeda Tonks
P.S. You have a lovely, if pushy, owl. She stole half of Nymphadora's bacon this morning.
Harry had looked up the law office in the telephone book and found the address. They also had a number listed, but Harry wasn't sure what to say to whoever answered it. He didn't think a lawyer would be answering his own phones. So, Harry resigned himself to another crazy ride on the knight bus.
"Ello gov! Hey, Ern, it's that kid again. You remember him from last august!"
"Hello Stan." Harry winces.
"Kid! I've never seen someone turn so green and yet not let it out. Where to?" the shrunken head on the dash says.
"Um, Tonks and Trunks Law offices." Harry says.
"Got yourself in some trouble? Good man Ted. Did some work for me. Well, what are you waiting for? Step on up." Stan chides.
"Right." Harry says, and takes Stan's hand. With great trepidation, he climbs aboard the deathtrap.
"Take it away Ernie! Hold on. Gonna be a bumpy ride!" the head mounted on the dashboard shouts. Harry, prepared this time, immediately latches onto the closest solid object, which happed to be the bar by the door. It takes all of his skills learned though long hours of dodging bludgers and holding onto his broom to remain in place and not be bodily thrown about the bus as Ernie rockets through traffic.
"You know, I still haven't got your name." Stan asks him, chewing on the end of a pencil.
"Like I said last time, I didn't say." Harry responds, fingers white and arms stiff as they corkscrew around a gridlocked bridge.
"You're not up to no good, are you?" Stan asks, defying every known law of physics and leaning in while the bus careens wildly upside down.
"Um, no. all legal." Harry responds.
Stan wrinkles his nose. "That's boring."
"Sorry?" harry says.
"Hey kid, it'll be your stop in ten."
"nine."
"Seven and two thirds."
"five and a quarter."
"three and six eights."
"You know that's just three fourths, right?" Harry says, opening his mouth when she should have focused on keeping his feet. Distracted as he was with his fancy simplification, Harry lost his grip and found himself plastered to the windshield again.
"Trunks and Tonks law offices." The head announces.
"Whatchu doing up there?" Stan asks, peeling Harry off the glass. "This your stop, mate."
"Thanks." Harry says drily.
"Anytime! Your fare today is six sickles and a knut."
Harry hands over the coins and step off of the bus. He resists the urge to kiss the ground after it pulls away, but only just. He does reconfirm his promise to himself that the moment he learns a different method of travel he is going to use it. Anything has to be better than that! Harry pats down his clothes and changes the shoulder his bag is slung over. He double checks the sign and opens the door.
He half steps back to let the lady walking out pass by and has to curse when she stops.
"You look awfully familiar, young man." She says, stopping to look him over. "I'm not sure where from, but I swear I know you."
"I'm-" Harry starts to explain.
"No, don't tell me, that takes all the fun out of it." She cuts over him. "Let's see. scrawny, glasses." She hmms. "fair skin, sharp cheekbones." She tuts. "With that hair you're definitely not a Malfoy. Could be a Parkinson, but I think I'd know if old Filmore had a son or nephew. Oh, but those eyes! You can't be a Parkinson with those pretty eyes! Not a Flint nor a Nott either. The Lestranges are a dead end right now, so you can't be one of theirs. Maybe a Black? You've got the petulant look for it."
"I'm sorry but,-" Harry tries to say.
"Hush, I'm almost there. Where was I? Black. You could be one of Regulus' lost pups, if he had any. You're not roguish enough to be Sirius'. So, that leaves only one possibility, you're Jamie's sprog. Cousin Jamie and dear Lily. Hello, Harry."
"Hi. Who- who are you?" He asks.
"Well, I guess I couldn't expect you to recognize me. You've never seen me, and my daughter stays far away from her base form. I'm Andromeda Tonks." The lady says with a fond smile. Harry doesn't want to trust her, but something in him says that he can.
She scrunches her nose, "Though if you're Cousin Jamie's then you're probably going to call me Andy too. Everyone knows he started the name war, calling me Andy, like Andromeda is too long or too proper. It was only natural I rebuff him in kind. Course, the joke never got old. His wedding invitation was addressed to Cousin Jamie, threw old Dorea for a fit. Charlus, your grandad, he didn't see the humor in it, but she did. Though Jamie got me in kind. It was a nice invitation, all dolled up in Lily's neat hand. Jamie had terrible penmanship, you know. But he got to decide the name and she wrote. So, of course it was addressed to Andy and Ted Tonks. Made the neighbors pull me aside and confess they thought my husband was a poof and having an affair."
"You- wow. This is more about my parents than anyone has ever told me." Harry confides, looking around to notice that they've migrated down the street to a muggle café. "How did you-" he asks, whirling around. "I didn't even notice we were moving!"
Andromeda smirks and sips her tea. "It's a useful skill to know. Now, I suppose you came to discuss the letter and the whole-" she waves her hand.
"Diving headfirst into a pool of piranhas?" Harry volunteers.
"Oh, don't say it like that. They only want your sperm, not your blood." She shoots back.
"They- they what!?' Harry sputters, suddenly glad he hadn't touched his drink.
"Well, you're the last of a long line of powerful magicals. The ministry doesn't want to see yet another house go extinct. They're already going to be up in arms about the Black and Potter houses combining." She explains.
"Wait, slow down. The Black and Potter houses combining?" Harry asks.
"You really are clueless." She says, setting her cup down and raising a hand to stall his anger. "I mean no offense, but how else would you put it? You've been in the wizarding world for three years and haven't learned a single thing about our society or how it functions."
"It isn't like I done nothing but play quidditch!" Harry snarls.
"Easy there tiger. I didn't mean it that way. The onus to learn is on you, not to teach. Someone should have been instructing you from the get-go to catch you up to where you should be. Don't feel like you've done anything wrong here, if anything you're the one who has been wronged. You and everyone under your house's purview." She says, laying a hand on his arm.
"I'm really in a bad spot, aren't I?" Harry asks.
"I won't lie to you; it is a bit of a pickle you've been forced into. If you'd like, I can help, but I have to know where to begin."
"Where should I start?" Harry asks.
"Academics. If you don't have a firm place to build from, then the more advanced will be infinitely more challenging. You can read and write, and do basic maths?"
"Yes, but my essays are all marked down for poor construction." Harry says, opting for full candor and suppressing his pride.
"Alright. Stop me when I hit something you don't know. Addition and subtraction, fractions, multiplication and division. Simple formulas, algebra. Geometry."
"Geometry." Harry butts in. "My math book stopped at algebra."
She looks pleased. "You're actually ahead in math compared to most non-Ravenclaws. I'd suggest you look over arithmancy if you aren't already. If it doesn't interest you, that's fine, but if you are even remotely intrigued then go for it as it won't be much of a challenge."
"You have a solid grounding in the basic sciences?" She asks.
"I think so?" Harry volunteers. "I'm not sure what the basics are exactly."
"We can test on them later." She says, waving it aside. "Now, do you know how to balance a book and budget?"
"I'm guessing balancing a book does not refer to putting it atop one's head?" Harry jokes.
"Regretfully, no. It would be much easier if it were though." She says, marking it down.
"Now for deportment." She eyes him over. "Are those clothes choice or necessity?"
"A bit of both? They're comfortable, but I don't have any that fit better yet." Harry explains.
"See to it that you get some proper clothing. You have decent enough manners for someone who was not trained, and only a few bad habits, which can be corrected without too much trouble."
"Bad habits?"
"You slouch, darling." She says, eyeing him over her glass.
"Oh." Harry says, straightening up.
"Better, but not quite." Andromeda says. "Now, as for your cultural knowledge, I'm going to leave that at the most basic. Even if you do know it, it cannot hurt you to review it. And, since you probably picked most of it up by piecemeal, there are sure to be bits missing. Like that you greet a group by age order."
"Did not know that." Harry says cheerfully. "See, learning already."
"Indeed." She says, suppressing a smile. "Now, for brass tacks."
"Sounds painful." Harry chirps.
"The best time for you to submit a claim on the magics is in two weeks, at the summer governance meeting. Between now and then, we will have to teach you how to walk and speak and carry yourself, as well as acquire you a wardrobe suitable for politicking. We will also have to gain a handle on your current finances and situation with Gringotts. I am prepared to teach you every day if need be, but I do not think it is that dire. I suspect some of these things will work themselves out nicely."
"That's a lot." Harry says.
"It is. I will not lie to you, this is a lot to ask. But I am asking. I cannot do anything but ask for your help. I love my house, even if they cast me out. I do not want to see it sullied further. Both of your parents were noble people, and Sirius was too before he fell ill of the Black madness."
"The Black Madness?" Harry asks.
"Yes, it's a rather unfortunate reality. The Black Family magics are powerful, equally so to the Potters. But, they have a price just like the Potters. To be the head of the Black is to walk the line between the void. Teeter on the edge of madness and brilliance. My dear sister slipped and fell before Sirius."
"Sister?" Harry asks.
"Bellatrix. Trixie was my older sister once, before she was a Lestrange. My father tried to supersede succession with her, since she was easily the strongest of us all magically. But it backfired, and the family magics seared her mind. He never recovered." Andromeda explains.
"Why would I try and seek them if they're so dangerous?" Harry asks.
"You're better off than anyone else to try and seize them. You've got the Potter blood to shield you. Your family magics will protect you from the worst of it." She says, dismissing the issue. "So, as I was saying, like your parents and Sirius, you too are firm in your convictions and character."
"Can I think about it?" Harry asks.
"I'm afraid not. There is little time as is." She says.
"Oh. Wow." Harry says, drinking deeply from his tea. He wasn't ready to decide. He meant to go and get some information, to learn about the situation more, not to be forced into deciding! As he drank, he thought it over. On one hand, Andromeda had told him more today about his family than anyone else he had met. And she was going to help him. On the other, this was handing his life over to someone else. And risking his sanity. He felt he should trust her, but he wasn't certain. If he did this, nothing would be the same. Everything would change. But, as he snuck a look over his cup, he saw through the show for just one moment. She was worried, truly worried about her house. And she cared for him. Already, there were notes and book titles scrawled on the paper she was writing on. He could see she was hopeful in him, trusting him to take care of her house, her legacy. Even if it wasn't technically hers anymore, she was still handing him something she valued very, very much. One of the few things left from her childhood. How could he say no?
"I'll do it." Harry says softly, then stronger. "I'll do it. Though it sounds like madness, I'll do it."
"Really?!" She yelps, drawing looks from the tables around them, but throwing her arms around him all the same. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you." She babbles about her notes for a moment before suddenly starting. "We should go to Gringotts."
"Why? Don't I need to learn some things first?" Harry asks.
"Not really. The Goblins are straightforward creatures. They value strength and cleverness above all else besides their patron gods."
"Which gods would those be?" harry asks.
"Well, their names are unintelligible on our tongue, but the closest analogue is Vulcan and Dionysus. Creation and Drunken Revelry. The whispers I've heard say that their forge parties are the best thing since the summoning charm." Andromeda says, paying their bill.
With Andromeda leading, they blow through the Leaky Cauldron like pureblood royalty, drawing eyes and hushed whispers.
"I hate it all." Harry groans as people stop and watch them.
"Hate what?" Andy asks.
"The fame." He says.
"Well, you are the wizarding worlds third most famous celebrity. I'm sorry, dear, but Merlin and Dumbledore have you beat. You're closing in on Dumbledore though, just four points last I heard." She says, patting his head.
"Oh? That close?" Harry says, "Think if I dance a jig I'll edge him out?"
"Hmm, probably not with those robes he wears. Maybe if you mooned the Minister though." Harry laughs at the suggestion, and they enter Gringotts with cheer.
"Miss Black! and Mr. Potter! We didn't expect you for another few weeks yet." The goblin says as the line moves, and they walk up.
"I wasn't aware I was expected at all." Harry says. "Don't you all need my key to confirm it's me?"
"New wards. They read your signature as you walk in. Very fancy! Of course, for anyone not you they need a key to access your accounts. As for the situation, I'm afraid so far there has been no progress." The goblin says.
"What situation?" Harry asks.
"How can you not know? The letter was delivered to you." He says, checking something on his parchment.
"I haven't received anything." Harry says.
"According to our wards, it was delivered to your hands."
"That's strange. Could someone have layered a misdirection on top of the mail ward?" Harry asks.
"Don't look at me, I never did runes. Made my eyes hurt they did." Andromeda says.
"What mail ward, Mr. Potter?" The goblin asks.
"I was informed I had a mail ward and that you all were collecting it for me." Harry explains.
"May I take a scan, Mr. Potter? I want to confirm what you say. It is completely non-invasive. Just a prick at your magic field."
"Um, sure?" Harry says. A moment later he winces as it feels like something sharp pokes his side.
"Fascinating." The goblin says, flipping the sign on his desk to closed. "Come with me, both of you! It seems we have done you a disservice."