Mushrooms and Toadstools
If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools.
(Katherine Mansfield)
Chapter 1
Prologue
He never knew what it was that drew him back there.
Perhaps it was something as simple as loneliness. For days he'd been left on his own, submerged in his grief, with no word of comfort to soothe his guilt.
Somehow he found himself standing in the ancient square, ringed as it was by the derelict houses.
He whispered the number under his breath- Twelve Grimmauld Square, then watched as the tall narrow townhouse thrust forward, as gloomy and forbidding as ever.
He ran across the street as if the hounds of hell were in pursuit, and threw himself against the heavy oak door.
To his amazement, it opened at his touch.
He fairly fell into the hallway, no longer bothering to muffle his steps.
The portrait on the wall opened her eyes. He braced himself for the torrents of abuse that would inevitably follow.
Instead, the woman dropped a curtsey, and spoke.
"Welcome, Lord Black."
The elf popped up immediately, and Harry stared.
Whenever he'd encountered Kreacher before, the elf had glared and muttered, ignoring anyone who'd appeared in the Black manor.
Now, though, he simply stood quietly, awaiting orders.
Harry turned to the portrait. "Why…why do you call me that?"
She returned his gaze unflinchingly. "That is what you are…the new lord of the House of Black."
"How?" he demanded.
She grimaced. "My son blood-adopted you when you were born. During his confinement in this house, I questioned why, but he refused to say, other than he had his reasons. Perhaps his sole reason was his love for you, I don't know."
Harry's eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall. He'd wept so much for his godfather yet he could not, would not, reveal his weakness before the woman who had despised them both.
"I will restore the honor of the House of Black," he vowed defiantly. "For his sake!"
"Will you?" Inexplicably, she seemed amused.
"What's so funny?" he bristled.
"The House of Black never had any honor. What we valued was power!"
He stared at her for one long moment.
"Then… I will restore the power."
The room seemed to darken around them.
"Come," implored the elf.
For once Harry was not disposed to argue. He had imagined he'd destroy the elf for deceiving him and getting Sirius killed, but now he was unsure. Had it truly happened the way he'd believed?
Kreacher led him into the library and pressed one spindly finger to the Black crest above the mantlepiece.
A bookcase swung silently open, disclosing a room Harry had never seen before.
He followed the elf to the carved mahogany desk that held only two items: an immense leather-bound old book, and a small velvet case.
Harry knew better than to touch that book! It was embellished with the family crest, and he suspected- correctly as it turned out- that it was the Black grimoire.
Slowly he opened the case to find it contained a single item: a ring. It too had the crest, and it shown against the velvet like a challenge. It seemed to say "Well? You pledged to restore the House of Black! Or was that a hollow oath?"
In one swift movement Harry grasped the ring and slid it on his finger.
Kreacher's eyes lit with triumph.
Then pain ricocheted through Harry's body, and with one shattering scream, he fell into darkness and knew nothing more.
A/N: I'm trying this again; I really messed it up to the point of just dropping it. But I don't like leaving my stories unfinished, so...once more into the breach!
