From last time...
Harry wondered briefly if cider had the same effect on wizards that Butterbeer did on House-elves, but Dudley was still laughing in his ear and before this thought had time to develop, Harry turned and threw up on Dudley's brand new shoes.

3: Intentions.

There were, it seems, advantages to having the Junior Heavyweight Inter-Schools Boxing Champion of the South-east in the family. Dudley's huge mass made it easy for him to drag Harry's stumbling form along Privet Drive. Once they had reached number four, Harry thought he heard Dudley say something about putting spikes in his drink but his ears were ringing so he concentrated on staying upright and ignored his cousin.

Uncle Vernon must have been the one to let them in because as Harry passed the living room door he saw his Aunt talking to someone. Harry tried to concentrate on this person who, although slightly out of focus, looked vaguely familiar. Eventually, the image cleared and Harry made out his headmaster. But that didn't make sense. Unless he'd found out that Harry'd been drinking and was here to expel him. Harry's stomach didn't seem to like this idea and it shifted dangerously.

"I didn't touch any spikes, Professor, I promise," Harry suddenly blurted out.
Harry saw Professor Dumbledore turn to examine him, but he looked more curious than angry.
"Maybe this isn't the best time to discuss this, Harry," he said kindly. "I think a glass of water would be advisable."
"You mean you're not here to expel me?" Harry's brain was finding this difficult to comprehend.
"No, Harry. I was actually here to discuss your plans for the rest of the summer."
"Oh." He wasn't expelled. What did Dumbledore say about the summer?
"I thought that perhaps you might like to spend the rest of the summer at The Burrow?"
"The Burrow?" Thinking was never normally this cloudy, was it? "Yes. Ron. I'd like that."
"Ah, good." A wide smile crossed the elderly wizard's face. "Perhaps it would be wise to get some rest then. I'll send someone to pick you up tomorrow at eleven."
Harry nodded, only to find that this movement set the room spinning.

"Professor," Harry asked, "do you know a spell for spikes?"
Dumbledore looked amused for a moment before his air of wisdom returned.
"Some wizards, Harry, find that, er - spikes - can often teach us a valuable lesson."
He waved his wand and a large glass of water appeared.
"Drink this then go to bed. I assure you, things will look better in the morning."

At the sight of magic being done in her home, Aunt Petunia had gone as white as a sheet. Dumbledore turned to her, unabashed.
"Nice to see you again, Petunia. Do keep in touch. I'll show myself out."

x x x

Harry was dreaming. His vision was a little fuzzy, as if he were standing in mist, but he could make out Dumbledore standing in front of him. Harry tried to work out where they were. It wasn't the Great Hall and it wasn't the headmaster's office. It was a classroom. Dumbledore was teaching them something, but Harry couldn't make out what he was saying. It looked like Transfiguration, though, as the glasses of water on the desk kept changing into small spiky objects and back again.

Harry was still trying to work out what Dumbledore was saying when suddenly his vision and hearing came back, just in time to see words appear on the blackboard and hear Dumbledore read them aloud.

"Your friends are rarely your enemies, and your enemies are rarely your friends. Now that is a very important lesson. "

Even in his dream, Harry decided that Dumbledore's lesson had been pointless. If your friends are your friends then obviously they're not your enemies. And who treated their enemies as friends? It wasn't as if Harry regularly went to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer with Voldemort.
"Bloody stupid, if you ask me."
Harry turned to see Ron sitting at the next desk and nodded in agreement. Ridiculous. The image went fuzzy again and disappeared as Harry woke up.

Harry's head was pounding and he automatically reached up to touch his forehead before he realised that it wasn't his scar that was hurting. The events of yesterday came flooding back, albeit with pieces missing.

The pub, ... those girls, ... the birthday drink, ...Dudley's shoes. Harry smiled; Dudley's shoes. Arriving home, ... someone in the living room, ... Professor Dumbledore. Harry groaned - what was it he'd said to his headmaster? He couldn't remember, but Dumbledore had told him something. Something about The Burrow... he was going to The Burrow... Harry was being picked up today at 11 o'clock to go to The Burrow for the rest of the summer.

Harry glanced at the clock on his bedside table; 8:48. His mouth felt awful; sort of dry but sticky. And the back of his throat was sore. Getting out of bed, Harry decided to brush his teeth before doing anything else.

x x x

Having managed to get dressed and force some toast into his gurgling stomach, Harry had gathered together his belongings and was now waiting for someone to arrive and take him far from Privet Drive, preferably before he had to face his cousin. Harry prayed that whoever it was would choose Muggle transport. Although he was desperate to get back onto his broom, he didn't think his rather fragile stomach would consent. As for the Floo network, well that didn't even bear thinking about.

When the clock read 10:56 Harry picked up the end of his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's empty cage in the other. By the time Harry had dragged his trunk to the bottom of the stairs he had already heard a car pull up and footsteps approaching. He opened the door to find Mr Weasley and Hermione about to ring the doorbell.

"Hrumph."
Harry jumped and turned to see his uncle scowling behind him. Before Mr Weasley had a chance to say anything, Uncle Vernon had mumbled something that resembled Goodbye and gone back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Mr Weasley was obviously in two minds as to whether or not he should go after him and cause a scene, but instead he turned to face Harry.
"How are you, Harry? Had a nice summer?"
"I'm fine. It was okay, thanks, Mr Weasley," Harry said, lying on both counts.
"Well, why don't you hop in the car," Mr Weasley said, indicating a Ministry car on the drive, "and I'll get your trunk."

Hermione smiled by way of a greeting, although Harry thought she looked like she was trying to assess if he was about to break into a thousand pieces. She took his arm and started to lead him towards the car in the way you might help an elderly lady across the road. Harry wriggled free of her grasp.
"Hermione, I'm fine. I'm not an invalid."
"Sorry. I just... " She stopped and flung her arms around him. "I was just so worried. I'm sorry."

Her squeezing him wasn't doing much for Harry's delicate stomach and he thought he was in danger of seeing his breakfast reappear.
"I'm fine, really. Well, no, I have a hangover, but -"
This had the desired affect. Hermione pulled away sharply and looked at him, horror-struck.
"A hangover?" she hissed quietly. "Harry, what on earth have you been doing? You shouldn't be drinking. It's illegal. What if Professor Dumbledore ever found out?"
"Er, ... actually, he did." Harry couldn't help but smile. "He was here when I got home."
"Come on you two, get in," Mr Weasley interrupted.

The trip to The Burrow was a little awkward, with Hermione flashing him disapproving looks every so often, but Mr Weasley's uninterrupted questions about all things Muggle passed the time. Hermione had just finished an explanation of what barcodes were for when they passed a sign announcing they had just entered Ottery St Catchpole.

Before they got out of the car, Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist to stop him.
"Harry, you do know how silly it was, don't you?" she asked desperately.
"I was sick," Harry admitted. "And then Dudley had to practically carry me home. Believe me, it's not something I'm going to do again in a hurry."
Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry I snapped. We're just so worried about you, that's all."
"Come on, let's go and see Ron," Harry said, changing the subject as he got out of the car.

Mrs Weasley saw him first and wrapped him in one of her hugs before asking how he was and leading him inside. Harry thought Ron looked strangely happy. Perhaps he was so used to people either scowling or worrying about him that it took time to adjust. He also could have sworn that Hermione gave him a subtle shake of the head. Maybe the drive over hadn't entirely cured his hangover.

Ron greeted Harry enthusiastically and started on a lengthy description of the Chudley Cannons's pre-season warm-up match, which they had apparently almost won, despite losing 290 - 10. Harry was so glad to be away from Privet Drive that he didn't interrupt, letting Ron ramble on for nearly 10 minutes non-stop. Even Hermione only smiled and rolled her eyes at Harry.

When they sat down to lunch Harry was surprised how empty The Burrow was. Ron had already told him in one of his letters that Percy was on holiday. Apparently, he'd been suspended from his job pending another investigation. Harry remembered, with a certain amount of bitterness, the way Percy had acted at his Underage Magic hearing, and the letter he'd sent Ron, warning him away from his best friend. However, the Weasleys seemed to think that he might come back to The Burrow and apologise when his holiday ended, and Hermione appeared ready to forgive him too ("well, obviously he's being made Fudge's scape-goat," she'd pronounced authoritatively), so Harry kept his thoughts to himself.

Despite Percy's absence, he had expected a slightly better welcome than this.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"Well, Bill's on holiday in France, Fred and George are at the shop, and Ginny has a special visitor," Ron said, pulling a face.
Hermione sighed. "What Ron means is Ginny's gone for a walk with Dean."
"Dean's here?"
"Yes, he came over for the day."
"Oh right. So, how long have you been here, Hermione?"
Hermione chose this moment to take a delicate sip of her pumpkin juice and Harry thought he could detect a hint of red appear on her cheeks, but dismissed it.
"Just a few days," she said.
"And, er, how are Fred and George doing?"
Harry really wanted to know how their joke shop was going but wondered if this was the right thing to ask in front of Mrs Weasley. He was surprised when she answered.
"We're very proud of them," she said, neatly folding the apron she'd been wearing and smoothing it out. "They've really been working hard. I would never have thought it, but their inventions are becoming quite a success, thanks to a certain someone."
This last word was spoken with a smile directed at Harry as she added an extra large portion of mashed potato to his plate.
"They'll be home this evening, no doubt with something new to show you all."

When the twins arrived they were in fact laden down with boxes full of their latest prank material. After dinner everyone took it in turns to be subjected to a Weasleys' Wizarding Wheeze, whilst Harry opened his birthday cards and presents. Only Dean (who seemed rather shy around Mr and Mrs Weasley) refused to take anything, claiming that his mum would ground him for life if he turned up with green eyelashes again.

Fred (or at least Harry thought it was Fred) eyed Dean suspiciously.
"Anyone would think our products were dangerous the way he's carrying on."
"Are you sure he's a Gryffindor?" George asked Ginny.
"Oh for goodness sake. Give it here," Ginny said, reaching for the can of Hair-raising Hairspray that had been destined for Dean.
To everyone's amusement, she endured an evening with lime green hair that stood up on end, which the twins proclaimed could only be out-done by Harry's naturally messy locks.

Fortunately, unlike Dean's green eyelashes, the effects wore off after only a few hours and, as he made his way up to bed, Harry realised that he had enjoyed himself so much that he had almost managed to forget about the one person that wasn't there... Almost.

x x x

"I can't believe they haven't got any new brooms in again this year," Ron complained.
"At least we know Malfoy can't buy the Slytherins anything better than their Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones," Harry said.
"I guess. Not that it did them any good before. They still didn't beat us did they? And this year it'll be even easier; you're back for starters and did I tell you I've been practising with Ginny? I reckon I'm loads better now than I was last year."
Harry, remembering Ginny's letter, resisted the urge to smile.
"So she hasn't got any past you then?" he asked innocently.
"Oh. Well, maybe one or two," Ron admitted reluctantly. "But, you know, she's quite good too."
"Hmm," Harry said non-commitally, biting his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

Harry's first morning back at The Burrow had dawned without a cloud in the sky so he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had decided to take advantage of the weather and were now sitting out in the garden. The girls had found a spot in the shade and were chatting just out of earshot, whilst Harry and Ron pored over the latest Quality Quidditch Supplies catalogue.

"Hey, look at this," Ron said, pointing to a picture of a rather nervous looking wizard on a broom. "Invisible Stablisers for the timid and embarrassed," he read. "Still wobbling more than whooshing but don't want your friends to know? Try Invisible Stabilisers, new in-store this month, and see the difference that your friends won't." He looked up from the catalogue. "D'you reckon they'd slow Malfoy down if we attached some to his broom whilst he wasn't looking?"

"Maybe," said a voice from behind them, "but not as much as Scratch-Resistant Itching Powder."
Harry turned round to see the twins behind him.
"Hi. How come you're not at the shop?" he asked.
"Half day on Wednesdays," George said.
"Yep, gotta save time for inventing new stuff. Have to stay a step ahead of the competition," Fred said sagely.
"Speaking of which, what's your favourite colour, Harry?" George asked.
"Why?"
"We've out-grown green."
"Yeah, people are starting to catch on. Not good for business."
"Lee suggested animal themes, but Zonko's have just brought out Penguin Suits and we don't want people thinking we aren't original."
Harry didn't think they were in any danger of that.
"So, what's your favourite colour?"
"Er..." Harry didn't really have a favourite colour but decided he should pick one anyway. "Red?"
"Hmm," Fred said, rubbing his hands together and looking thoughtful. "A good Gryffindor colour, red."
"Exactly," Harry said, as if that was what he'd been thinking all along.
"What's wrong with Cannons Orange?" Ron asked.
"Nah, we're saving that for something special," Fred said mysteriously as he and George started to retreat into the house.

"Well, if they're home it must be lunchtime," Ron announced, subconsciously rubbing his stomach.
Hermione and Ginny were obviously thinking along the same lines as they came over to join them.
"What do you think to having a picnic?" Hermione suggested.
"Great, I'm starving," Ron told her.
"Good, well you can help me make it then," Hermione said.
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry but they both got up to follow her.
"Oh, no, it's okay, Harry. It's only your first day back," Hermione told him. "I'm sure Ron and I can manage. Why don't you and Ginny stay out here?"
Harry thought she was taking her over-protectiveness a bit far; what terrible fate was going to befall him in the Weasleys' kitchen? But she and Ron had already started towards the back door so he settled back down onto the grass next to Ginny.

For some reason she was scowling in the direction of the back door.
"What's wrong?"
Ginny's scowl disappeared instantly.
"It's nothing. Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived yesterday. Dean doesn't get to come over often; his mum isn't a big fan of Fred and George's jokes."
Harry shrugged. "That's okay."
"It's just, I wouldn't want you to think that your friends are abandoning you or anything," she said earnestly.
Harry frowned, puzzled.
"Really, don't worry about it. I was just glad to get away from the Dursleys before I had to face Dudley."
"Face Dudley? Why?" Ginny asked, and Harry told her about his birthday.
"On his shoes?" Ginny said between bouts of laughter. "Brilliant aim."
Harry smiled.
"It wasn't a lot of fun at the time but it got him back for making me look like an idiot."
"He really is an twit, isn't he?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "but at least it's better than when we were younger."
As soon as he'd said this, he wished he hadn't. She was bound to ask all sorts of embarrassing questions now about how he used to get bullied. To make matters worse, it appeared that the garden hadn't been de-gnomed for a while and Harry was sure he could see a pair of eyes watching him from behind a large shrub.

"And now you have to put up with Fred and George," she said, surprising him. "And Ron too. How many times has he mentioned his goalkeeping skills since you got here?"
Harry laughed, all traces of self-consciousness fading away.
"Only once so far."
"Merlin's toes!" Ginny exclaimed, doing a fair impression of one of her mum's favourite expressions.
They both laughed.

"Thanks for your letter, by the way," Harry said. "Sorry I didn't get round to replying."
"If you had it would probably have arrived at the same time that you did. I wasn't really expecting you to anyway," she said, brushing it off.
Harry was about to ask why she hadn't expected him to write back but Ron and Hermione came back out into the garden, joined by Fred and George. Hermione was carrying a red and white checked blanket, the twins were levitating cutlery, plates, glasses and a large jug, whilst Ron was struggling with a heavy picnic hamper.

"Lunch is served!" Fred announced.
The twins must have Apparated back to Diagon Alley at some point as, in addition to a variety of food, there was also enough Butterbeer for them all. However, Harry decided that he wouldn't risk it after the events of his birthday.
"So, Ginny," Ron said as he bent his long legs underneath himself to sit down on the blanket, "have you told Harry that we've been practising Quidditch?"
Harry had just enough time to share a glance with Ginny before they both dissolved into fits of laughter.

After lunch the twins went to 'work their genius', as Fred put it, and Harry and Ginny took it in turns to test Ron's apparently improved Keeper's skills. Despite Ginny's teasing, Harry was pleased to see that Ron was almost as good as Wood now. He stopped all but one of Harry's attempts on 'goal' (which was actually an old bicycle wheel that was missing its spokes strung up in the trees) and even Ginny, who turned out to be a pretty good Chaser, could only get about half of her shots through.

It was a mark of how closely they were matched that Harry noticed Hermione sneaking glances at the game every so often, in spite of her insistance that she was far too busy reading up on next year's school material to watch.

However, as the afternoon progressed, a large, grey rain cloud moved in over-head then, without warning, suddenly began emptying its contents to a background of grumbling thunder and brilliant white lightening. All four of them ran to collect their lunch things and crowded through the back door, Ron slamming it shut after him as rain splattered against the glass pane.

"Ahh... I do love a good summer storm."
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry heard Hermione exclaim.
He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and saw that his headmaster was indeed stood in the Weasleys' kitchen.

"Good afternoon to you all," he said, before brandishing four letters in thick, cream-coloured parchment envelopes. "I do believe these belong to you."
He handed out the letters and Harry saw that they were the usual instructions on when and where to catch the Hogwarts Express, and a book list for all the NEWTs subjects.
"Does this mean you've found a new Defence teacher, then?" Harry asked, noting that the two Defence books were entitled 'Wielding Your Wand: Advanced Practical Solutions To Tackling Darkness' and 'Unusual Uses For Common Curses'.
"Indeed I have, although I must warn you that I have been sworn to secrecy on the matter," he said, his eyes displaying a twinkling quality that Harry had only ever seen his headmaster perfect. "I am quite sure that you will approve though. Now then," he said as his mood became more somber and he turned to Harry, "I wonder if I might have a word?"
"We'll go and get changed into something dry," Hermione said, leading Ron and Ginny up the stairs.

"Well, I hope you've recovered from the excitement of your birthday?" Dumbledore asked as he dried Harry's jeans and t-shirt with a swish of his wand.
"Er, yes," Harry said, wondering if Dumbledore, having had the time to think about it, was going to expel him for drinking after all.
"Good, good. Well, shall we sit down?"
Harry took a chair at the kitchen table and started to fiddle nervously with a soggy bread roll which had escaped the picnic basket.

"Harry, next week I must ask you to visit London," Dumbledore said, his bright blue eyes fixed on Harry.
"Why?" he asked, not liking the pity he heard in Dumbledore's tone.
"You understand that, when a person passes away, there is the matter of what will become of their possessions."
"I don't want anything," Harry said, staring determinedly at a rain drop that was hanging precariously from the corner of the picnic blanket in front of him on the table.
Dumbledore sighed.
"I'm afraid that, as Sirius' closest legal kin, you are required to attend to witness - "
"I don't want to go," Harry interrupted, not caring that he should be paying his headmaster more respect.
"Harry, if I could make this any easier for you, believe me, I would." He sighed again. "I happen to believe that this will be good for you. Either way, unfortunately, there are some things that I simply have no control over. I'm sorry."

Harry thought that if he opened his mouth to speak again he would almost certainly lose control of the tears that were threatening to spring up in his eyes. He swallowed. The rain drop fell from the blanket onto Mrs Weasley's tiled floor.
"I will return nearer the time to explain what will happen. You won't be expected to do anything," Dumbledore assured him quietly.
Harry nodded.

After Dumbledore had left Harry sat and listened to the rain. It hammered on the windows, splashed in the pond and gurgled down the drainpipes. In the distance a car sloshed along a wet road. Harry felt disconnected from himself, as if he were watching his life from the outside. He decided that there was something contradictory about summer storms - the noise that was oddly soothing, the wetness in the warm air - he could see why Dumbldore liked them.

"Are you all right?" Harry heard Hermione ask cautiously from the doorway.
"Fine. Dumbledore just asked me to go somewhere next week, that's all," he said, forcing himself back into reality and with as much cheer as he could scrape together.

"Wow, it's really chucking it down out there," Ron said. "Ginny, where did you put the Exploding Snap cards?"

x x x

Harry slept badly that night and when he woke for the third time, he actually found himself briefly wishing, as he listened to Ron's snoring, that he were back at Privet Drive with Dudley's distractions to wear him out. He Occluded his mind again and closed his eyes for the fourth time.

x x x

Time passed rather more quickly than Harry would have liked and before he knew it, he had already been at The Burrow for almost a week. Despite Hermione attempting to bring up the subject of his godfather on several occasions, his friends had mostly respected his need for some space but as the reading of Sirius' will approached Harry found his sleep becoming more and more troubled. He was tired and no matter how much false laughter he forced out of himself there was always an odd sense of foreboding that followed him around and threatened to let the reality, which he had so successfully blocked out for the first part of the summer, catch up with him.

Dumbledore appeared shortly after the dinner things had been cleared away one evening and asked to talk to him again. An all too familiar feeling of dread resurfaced inside him but he knew there was no avoiding what his headmaster wanted to speak to him about.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as they sat down at the kitchen table with mugs of hot chocolate in front of them.
"I just wish we could go now and get it over and done with," Harry mumbled, thinking for the hundredth time that he would rather not go at all. Why would he be interested in Sirius' will? If he couldn't have his godfather, he would rather try and forget that he had ever existed.
"Ah yes, but sadly it will not be ready yet."
"Couldn't you ask them to get it out early?"
Dumbledore viewed him over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"This is not a Muggle will," he said softly. "There are similarities, of course, but we have found that wills can be forged, and must be constantly be re-written if they are to truly reflect our wishes."

Harry had been trying desperately not to think about this during the days since he had found out that he would have to attend and now that his assumptions had been shattered he didn't know what to think.

"Oh... so... what does a wizard will do?"
"Magical wills are called Intentions. When a witch or wizard is born, a small amount of Essence of Intentions is taken from them."
"You mean like taking blood? Don't they need it?"
Dumbledore smiled kindly.

"In a similar way to blood, we all have enough intentions to last us a lifetime, maybe more. We have good intentions and bad. I myself have the intention to drink a cup of chamomile tea before I retire this evening. But it is not the intentions themselves which are extracted, merely a sort of side-effect. This substance enables us to find out the sort of intentions a person may have."

This new information brought up a wealth of questions in Harry's mind.
"Couldn't you test it when they're born? I mean, couldn't you find out if they were going to be a bad person and keep an eye on them?"

"That would indeed be useful. However, aside from the ethical issues involved, sadly the Essence of Intentions cannot simply be read, and a single Final Intention cannot be produced until after death."

Harry had almost forgotten why they were talking about this subject in the first place, but now Sirius' face was plainly staring back at him inside his head.

"So... the Final Intention is like a will?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, it is what the person would have decided at the moment they passed away, although we also have the ability to add ideas into the Intention. For example, if we discover a relative they never knew about, we can suggest that they consider them."
"How do you add an idea in?" Harry asked, slightly apprehensively.
"The Essence taken is only a very small sample. Upon learning of its being needed, the sample is cultivated so that it may grow. Just as plants react to such things as music and touch, the Essence of Intentions will react to anything you tell it. For this reason, only a few people are allowed access to the Intentions laboratories. And when the Essence has finally grown to such a size as an entire Intention may be gleaned from it, it is asked to Speak."

This was something of a shock to Harry.

"It speaks?"
"In a manner, yes. You see, all of our intentions involve ourselves in some way - what we want or what we are going to do - so the Essence of Intentions produces an Impression of the person it was taken from, and it is this image that utters the Final Intention."
"So I'll see Sirius?" Harry asked, not able to hide his excitement.
"Not exactly. You will see an Impression of him."
"Like in a magical photo?"
"Sadly not. It is an impression of intention, whereas, if you wanted to draw a parallel, the photograph is an image of body and emotion. We cannot tell what the Impression will resemble, which is why I wanted to speak to you about this beforehand. It will be something associated with your godfather, of course, but it may be his appearance when he was a child, when he was most happy, or most sad. It varies from wizard to wizard."

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. "I don't want you to get your hopes up, Harry. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, deflated.
"Very well." Dumbledore nodded. "Do you have any other questions before I go?"
Harry shook his head and Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder as he stood up. "Someone will go with you tomorrow, and I suspect Remus and Tonks will be there too. I know this is difficult for you Harry, but remember we are all here for you if you need us."
Harry nodded once more before Dumbledore Disapperated and Harry was left sitting in the kitchen with only a cold cup of hot chocolate for company, feeling numb.

x x x

The following morning everyone was walking on eggshells around Harry. In the end, he retreated to Ron's room to avoid them, and was relieved when Mrs Weasley knocked softly on the door to tell him it was time to go.

They Flooed to The Leaky Cauldron then walked along Diagon Alley. Fortunately it wasn't too busy and they soon turned into a side street where they stopped outside an old but respectable looking building with a sign outside pronouncing:

Hemplestuffle and Himlock's - our Intention is to serve you best. Est. 1842.

As Harry stepped inside the small office he expected to see leather chairs and shelves of serious looking books. Instead, there was a room with a fireplace and a small wooden table with a row of mis-matched seats facing it. The man who greeted them was amiable but, with his white lab robes and mud smeared across his cheek, he looked more like a cross between a gardener and a mad scientist than the lawyer Harry had been expecting.

Feeling uneasy, Harry went to sit down in a green armchair whose fabric had started to fray on the arms. Lupin was already there, sitting next to Tonks, and Harry couldn't help but notice that his former Professor was looking particularly tired and drawn out. Tonks appearance today was rather more somber than usual; her hair was a dark shade of blue - almost black - instead of her habitual bubble gum pink. Lupin greeted Mrs Weasley and gave Harry what looked like an attempt at an encouraging smile. Harry tried to smile back but was relieved when the man at the front of the room finally cleared his throat to speak.

"Good morning. My name is Mr Himlock and, as I think we are all here, we may as well begin."
At this, he turned and opened a cupboard behind him, bringing out a glass sphere a little larger than a football, which he placed on the wooden table. Next, he retrieved a small phial of something blue and metallic-looking, and a parchment and quill. He set down the parchment on the table and balanced the tip of the quill on it. Then, he poured the silvery-blue liquid into a small hole at the top of the sphere and tapped 3 times on the top, muttering under his breath. Then he stood back, looking expectantly at the sphere.

After a moment or two a light appeared inside the sphere. It suddenly flashed brighter then disappeared to reveal the image of a large black dog.

Harry felt a lump in his throat. The dog stood still for a while then started bounding around and chasing its own tail, barking wildly. After a short while the image suddenly flashed again and the sphere was empty.

Harry looked at the wizard at the front of the room.
"An unregistered Animagus?" Mr Himlock muttered to himself.
Harry watched him go to examine the parchment, which was blank, the quill balancing perfectly still on the top. He swallowed noticeably and shot a nervous glance in Lupin's direction.
"Yes, well, er, ... Yes, that can happen sometimes with Animagi. Er, let me just ... "

Harry all of a sudden wished that he hadn't come. It was nice to see Padfoot again, but he didn't need Mr Himlock to tell him that it had all gone horribly wrong. Why was nothing in his life simple? He carefully avoided looking at any of the other occupants of the room. Mr Himlock had opened the cupboard again and taken out a glass jar, this time filled with a blue powder. He took a pinch and threw it into the fireplace, which immediately burst into blue flames.

"Ministry approved Intentions surveyor for Sirius Black," he announced clearly.
After a moment, Dumbledore's head appeared in the flickering blue flames.
"Hello?"
"Ah, Albus Dumbledore, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Good morning. Sorry to disturb you. My name's Mr Himlock of Hemplestuffle and Himlock's Intentions Laboratories. We were performing a Speaking and, er, came across a problem. It would appear that you are the most qualified person to act as Surveyor for a Mr Sirius Black. I wonder if you would mind?"

Dumbledore looked sad but nodded. "Hemplestuffle and Himlock's you said?"
Moments later, the elderly wizard was stood in front of them and Mr Himlock was handing him a piece of parchment. He studied it for a moment then turned to Mrs Weasley.
"May I ask in what capacity you are here today?"
"Oh, no, I don't have a claim," she said, becoming a little flustered. "I'm just here with Harry. Should I leave?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Not at all, please remain where you are." He asked Mr Himlock if there were any absent parties who had expressed an interest and when the younger wizard shook his head Dumbledore turned and stared out of the window, which had just morphed into a scene of rolling hills.

When Dumbledore came to face them again, Harry saw that he was smiling. He explained that he had been magically selected to decide what would happen to Sirius' possessions, and that they could object to any decisions he made.

"Are there any questions?" he asked.
When there were not, he continued.
"Nymphadora Tonks, you are entitled to any items you may wish to keep relating to your family, in particular any heirlooms which remain. Remus Lupin, you are entitled to take any possessions which you feel hold sentimental value to you, although it is my hope that you will do so in consultation with Harry. Mr Black's property, including any remaining possessions, will go to Harry Potter, with the condition that it remains in its current usage until Harry leaves school or has need of it. Any current occupants should also be allowed to remain until that time. The contents of vault 711 at Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley branch, will be split four ways, one quarter going to each of Remus, Tonks, Harry and the joint vault of the Weasley family."
"I don't need the money," Harry interrupted, hardly realising that he was speaking aloud until it was too late.

Dumbledore came to stand in front of him.
"My role here today is not to give you what you need, Harry, but to attempt to make the decisions Sirius would have made. I think this is what he would have wanted."

Mrs Weasley was shifting nervously in her seat like a school-girl about to be disciplined by her headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore, I really don't see why -"
The elderly wizard dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. "Molly, I know Sirius felt indebted to yourself and Arthur for fulfilling his god fatherly duties when he was not able, and without even being asked. Your presence here today is proof, not that it is needed, that you deserve this. I assure you that this is not intended as a payment, but as a gesture of thanks."
Reluctantly, Mrs Weasley nodded.

"And finally," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "the portrait of Mrs Black hanging behind the curtains on the stairway at Mr Black's property is to be removed to Hogwarts. This concludes my interpretation of Intentions."

Seeing Harry's puzzled look at the mention of Mrs Black's painting, Dumbledore went on to explain that Magical Law was one of the few things that could effectively counter-act a Permanent Sticking Charm.

"I assure you that should you wish to have it I will happily return it to you."
"No, no. That's fine," Harry hastened to reassure him. "You can keep it."

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To be continued...

In chapter 4: Ginny gives Harry a nudge in the right direction.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my interpretation of a wizarding will... helpful reviews are always appreciated! If you'd like to be told when I update, please choose 'Author Alert' below.
Until the next time,
myrti
xxx

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written July 2003
posted March 2004
re-posted March 2005