Chapter 5: Harry's Return

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"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." (William Shakespeare, Hamlet, IV:5)

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As Dumbledore arrived at Rachel's house, Harry sat stubbornly in the corner, his arms crossed. Rachel had gone upstairs. 
Adriana and Dumbledore were having a whispered conversation in the kitchen; Harry knew he could overhear them if he tried, 
but he didn't even care anymore.

All I wanted was to spend a week away from this sort of thing... just take a bit of a vacation... but no, Voldemort can't
even stay out of my life for that long! Harry thought angrily. Why me? Why does it always have to be me? He hit
the wall with his fist with such force that he nearly knocked himself off of the chair he was sitting in. He held onto the
seat, swaying unsteadily.

"What was that?" Adriana asked, rushing into the room with Dumbledore by her side.

"I'm not leaving," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically.

"Harry, please calm down. The Order must act in what we believe is your best interest, and at this time, that includes leaving
Spain. Please go upstairs, pack your things, say goodbye to Rachel, and come back down quickly so that we may leave." Dumbledore
studied him carefully, but Harry simply left his chair and stomped upstairs. He didn't even care about waking Rachel's family
any longer. As he opened his bedroom door, Rachel flew at him from inside, hugging him tightly. 

"Harry, what if something would have happened? They knew we were there... they only missed us by a few minutes. Oh, Harry..."
She broke down sobbing. Harry felt guilt creeping up in his chest.

"Rach, it's okay. Nothing happened. It's going to be fine." He patted her back comfortingly. She looked up at him, tears still
in her eyes, and nodded. "But Dumbledore wants me to leave now. So I'm supposed to pack," he said, glancing around the room.

"I'll help," Rachel volunteered. Together, they managed to pile together all of Harry's belongings. "What's this?" Rachel
asked from over by the dresser. She was holding up a thin gold chain with several charms. Harry took it from her as he smiled.

"It's a long story... I promise I'll tell you the next time I see you." He looked deep into her eyes. "I'm sorry I have to
leave," he whispered.

"No, don't be sorry. You need to be safe," she replied, hugging him again. "I guess I'll see you at school, then?" Harry nodded,
fighting back the lump in his throat.

"Bye, Rach," he said gruffly, kissing her tenderly. Together, they picked up Harry's things and headed downstairs. Adriana had
left, but Dumbledore was still waiting, holding a teacup that Harry assumed was most likely a port key. 

"What about Dobby?" Harry asked suddenly. 

"He's already there," Dumbledore answered. Harry sighed.

"Is that a port key?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded. "I can apparate now, you know," he said haughtily. A smile crept over
Dumbledore's face. 

"That's a long way to apparate for someone who just got licensed yesterday. Especially someone who is intoxicated," he replied.
Harry blushed, staring at the teacup.

"Fine then. Let's go." He held a finger up to the teacup, and his surroundings swirled away as he was pulled away from 
Rachel's warm, clean kitchen to the cold stone floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Take your things upstairs quietly," Dumbledore whispered to Harry. "No use in waking everyone at this hour." Harry nodded
and tried to take his trunk upstairs without making a noise; however, it thumped softly with every step he dragged it up. He
finally reached the room that he and Ron had shared for the past two years. He was surprised to see a light on inside.

"Ron?" he whispered uncertainly as he pushed the creaking door open gently.

"Harry!" Ron whispered back excitedly. "Good to see you, mate!"

"How come you're still up?" Harry asked, pushing his trunk across the room.

"Knew you were coming," he said, grinning. "First Hedwig shows up, then Dobby appears about ten minutes ago. I figured they were
sending you over tonight."

"Yeah," Harry grunted. 

"So did you take your apparition test yet? Did you apparate here?" he asked.

"Yes, I took it and I passed, no, I didn't apparate here because Dumbledore wouldn't let me," Harry complained, stumbling over
to his bed.

"Why no- Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, examining him carefully. His eyes widened in realization. "Mate, are you drunk?" he
asked incredulously.

"Slightly. I was at this discoteque with Rachel in Madrid and we were just dancing and stuff, and then we decided to go get something
to eat, but then her cousin came up and told us there was a Death Eater attack in the building we were just in-"

"Blimey!" Ron cried, forgetting to lower his voice. "So that's why you're here in the middle of the night, huh? I thought maybe
they just did it as a sort of cover-up thing." Harry was feeling very sleepy now; he just nodded. "I can't believe you're allowed
to drink, I tried to get my mum to let me go out with Fred and George one night but she said no." Harry laughed. What do you
mean I'm allowed to drink, there's no one there to tell me not to, Harry thought mournfully.

"Goodnight, Ron," he said, falling into a deep slumber almost instantaneously.

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Harry didn't feel very well the next morning but he tried to ignore it. Ron was gone from his bed; Harry figured he must be 
downstairs eating breakfast. Though he didn't quite feel hungry, he decided to go downstairs also and join them. He was so tired 
he didn't even change out of his pajamas. As he walked down the hallway, he noticed that the decor had changed significantly
since he had last been at Number 12 Grimmauld; the mounted heads of the house-elves no longer lined the halls and the
walls and ceiling had been painted bright, cheery colors instead of the drab gray and brown. As Harry descended the stairs,
he noticed the portrait of Mrs. Black was completely gone; the area where the picture had been was scorched and there were
long scrapes along the wall, evidence of the struggle it must have taken to get rid of her. Harry grinned smugly at the thought
that he would never again have to hear her screams.

"Isn't it nice without her?" a familiar voice said from behind him. Harry turned around to see Fred (or was it George?) grinning
at the huge marks on the wall. The other twin appeared from the kitchen area. 

"That was the work of one of our test products," George said, gesturing to the wall where the portrait had formerly hung. "We
decided it was a little too powerful for our market, though, so we used it on her..." The three of them laughed. 

"Welcome back, Harry, how's your summer been?" Fred asked.

"Oh, er, not bad-"

"Nice outfit, by the way," George commented on Harry's faded pajamas. He blushed.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "I'm just going to get a bit of breakfast." The twins nodded.

"Catch you around, Harry!" they chorused before walking out the front door. Harry walked cautiously into the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry, there you are!" Mrs. Weasley greeted him excitedly, pulling him into a hug. "I was wondering when you'd get up!
Here, sit down and have something to eat!" Harry sat and looked around; Tonks, Kingsley, and a few other people he didn't know
were all sitting at the table. He immediately looked down, embarassed to be seen in his pajamas by so many people, but they
didn't seem to care, and they continued their conversation.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked as Mrs. Weasley set down a plate of eggs and toast in front of him.

"Oh, he and Ginny have already eaten. We're still working on the house, you know; they're upstairs repainting a room. You can
join them if you want, as soon as you eat something!" She smiled at him. Harry munched on his toast for a few minutes before
leaving quickly. He got dressed, putting on old clothes so that he could get them dirty. and began wandering the house looking 
for Ron.

"Ron! Hello? Ginny? Are you guys up here?" he called, walking down another hallway in the seemingly enormous house. An exhausted
looking Ron, covered in paint, poked his head out of a doorway.

"We're in here, mate," he called back, looking a bit disgruntled. Harry walked into the room and received a splat of paint across
his t-shirt. He was immediately glad he had chosen to wear old clothes.

"Oh! Harry! I'm sorry!" Ginny blushed, her skin matching her red hair. "I was aiming for Ron, really, not you!"

"As you can see, I've already been hit several times," Ron grumbled.

"Like you haven't been fighting back!" Ginny argued. 

"There's more paint on you two than on the walls!" Harry commented, looking around the room.

"Yeah, we better do this soon or mum'll kill us," Ron said gloomily. "Want to help, Harry?"

"Sure," he answered. The three teenagers spent the afternoon together and finished painting the walls of the room.

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Mrs. Weasley made dinner early that night. It seemed very early to Harry, who had spent the last week not eating until 10 PM.
He had enjoyed the Spanish meals, but he was glad to have Mrs. Weasley's cooking back.

"This is delicious," he mumbled to her through a mouthful of food. She smiled.

"Thank you, Harry. Now everyone, please hurry and eat, there's an Order meeting tonight and we've got to get you all out of
this room soon!" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Mum, we're of legal age now, can't we just-"

"Ron, you know the answer to that question. Professor Dumbledore has already said that wizards or witches still in school may
not join the Order. Now, upstairs, all of you!" Ron, Harry, and Ginny slowly retreated to their bedrooms.

"Hermione's supposed to be coming here soon," Ron said lazily as he lie on his bed. "She sent me an owl today." He held up a
piece of parchment.

"Is she back from Rome or wherever she was?" Harry asked. Ron nodded.

"Just got back yesterday. She said she was going to try to get here tonight."

"That would be nice, it's a bit boring-" The door flew open.

"Ron! Harry!" Hermione ran inside, attacking Ron first with a hug, before turning to Harry and doing the same to him. As she
released Harry, she held out a Daily Prophet. "Were you anywhere near this?" she demanded, pointing to the headline. It read
"Spanish club attacked by Death Eaters". Harry nodded as he took the paper from her and began to read.

Early this morning, a popular nightclub in Madrid was suddenly invaded by what seemed to be hundreds of He-Who-Must-
Not-Be-Named's supporters, causing the deaths of 14 so far and leaving 76 injured. La Selva, a dance club frequented by teenagers
and located in the Valle de Horizonte, the wizarding section of Madrid, Spain, held nearly 400 partiers when the attack took
place. Death Eaters, as the followers of the Dark Lord are known, broke into the building around 2 AM and began using illegal
dark spells against the patrons. "I was terrified," said one witness. "We didn't know what was going on." Among the spells used
were the Cruciatus Curse and Avada Kedavra, both punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban Prison. The attack seemed random,
as both muggle and pure-blooded wizards were killed and injured. The Spanish Ministry is currently cooperating with the Interational
Wizarding Federation to solve this crime.

The article wasn't over but Harry could hardly stand to read any more. He felt sick just thinking about it.

"Rachel and I were inside there like five minutes before this happened," he told her, avoiding eye contact. Hermione gasped.

"Harry, you need to be more careful! What if something would have happened?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm tired of being careful. Sometimes I just want to be normal and have fun, you know?" he said defensively. Hermione gave him
a sad smile.

"I know, Harry. I know."

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After Ginny had let them know that the Order meeting was over (she had been watching the door for nearly two hours), the trio
headed downstairs again. Dumbledore noticed Harry across the room and made his way over to him.

"Harry, could I talk to you?" he asked, smiling. He nodded and followed as Dumbledore led him into the parlor, closing
the door behind him. "Sit down, Harry, please," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "I did not tell you this last year for several
reasons. You were still struggling with Sirus' death, you were not yet 17, and you had a great deal of other pressures to handle.
Now, however, I feel it is appropriate to tell you. I must inform you that you are the sole beneficiary of Sirius Black's will.
You now have legal possession of this house, along with many other items that are listed here." He held out a list to Harry.
"Please read this over. I know this is still hard for you, so I do not expect you to make any decisions at this time. Good
night, Harry." With a nod and a gentle pat on the shoulder, Dumbledore left, leaving Harry alone with his confusion. Stunned,
he stared at the piece of parchment. 

"I hadn't even thought about him having a will," he murmured, reading the list slowly. At the top, in Sirius' rounded handwriting
that still made Harry's heart ache, was a short paragraph.

The following is the will of Sirius Orion Black. After my death, all of my possessions are to become the property of Mr. Harry
James Potter as soon as he reaches the legal age to accept said inheritance. Until this time, the responsibility for ownership of 
the remaining Black property, along with the personal possessions listed below, will rest with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian 
Dumbledore. If he is unable to accept this responsibility, it will be given to Mr. Remus J. Lupin. The following list of items 
are to be given to Mr. Potter after he has reached the age of 17:

~~House at Number 12 Grimmauld Place

~~All possessions inside of the house, including:

 -Motorbike

 -All remaining furniture

 -Personal possessions upstairs

~~All funds inside of vault #312 at Gringott's (key enclosed)

~~Anything else Mr. Potter wishes to have



Signed by witnesses,

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

Remus J. Lupin

Nymphadora Tonks

Harry sighed unsteadily, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. What was he going to do with all of this?

"I hope I'm around long enough to enjoy it all, Sirius," he whispered, thinking of the prophecy that haunted him night and
day. The thought occured to him that most people would now consider Harry to be rich. I'd give it all away just to be normal.
Normal and poor, like the Weasleys, that would be perfect, Harry thought, wiping away a single tear.

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