Chapter 2 – The Black Estate
Harry felt as though he was going to be sick. He bent over, with his hands on his knees, head hung low, and squeezed his eyes shut.
It can't be, Harry told himself. Why is he here? What possible reason would … that thing … need to see me for?
Harry opened his eyes, still bent over, and looked again at the corner. Staring back at him, with a look of equal enmity, sat Kreacher. Harry's thoughts once again returned to the talk he had with Professor Dumbledore a few weeks ago. Only now, Harry was focusing on a different part of the conversation. Harry was remembering Dumbledore's explanation … how Kreacher had played a role in setting Harry up to go to the Department of Mysteries … how Kreacher had lied to him, causing Harry to believe that Sirius was in grave danger … how Dumbledore had told him that Kreacher had laughed after learning that the plan had worked and Sirius himself had left to follow Harry…
Harry squeezed his eyes shut again as the pain of these memories filled his being. Harry's throat burned, his stomach clenched, and he began to shake. It was his fault, Harry told himself. If it wasn't for him…
"I'm going to kill you," Harry said, standing up swiftly, pulling his wand from his jeans pocket, training it on Kreacher, and stepping towards him.
Harry felt two sets of arms grab him from behind, but Harry did not care. This thing had taken Sirius from Harry; this thing did not deserve to live.
"As you wish, Master," said Kreacher, standing up on the stool and holding his arms to his side to give Harry a clear shot.
Harry stopped struggling against the arms holding him. Master? Harry stared at Kreacher, wondering what kind of game the blasted house-elf was playing now.
"Come, Harry. Sit down." Harry heard a familiar voice break through his thoughts. Harry turned his face to the voice that had spoken to him.
"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, blinking his eyes hard once again.
"Come now, Harry," Remus said lightly, "I think we're well beyond the need to call me Professor." He was looking at Harry with a half-smile that did not reach his eyes, appearing very much like a concerned parent.
Harry suddenly felt very weak, and allowed Remus and the other set of arms to escort him to a chair at the table. As his senses starting to come back, Harry marveled at the grip of the hands on his right arm. Realizing it could not possibly be Mrs. Figg, Harry drew his gaze to his right. Peering at him over half-moon spectacles were bright blue, glittering eyes. Professor Dumbledore.
"Afternoon, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, releasing Harry's arm and sitting on the chair to Harry's right.
Harry nodded and swallowed, having lost the ability to speak. His breath was still shallow, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Remus sat to Harry's left, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Harry."
Harry nodded absently.
Mrs. Figg appeared, placing bowls of hot soup in front of them. She took the seat opposite of Harry, placing her own bowl down. "Eat up, dear. It'll warm you up."
Harry had not noticed that he was visibly shaking.
"Yes, let's tuck in," Dumbledore said, grasping his spoon. "Tell me, Arabella, how has your summer been?"
Harry tuned out the rest of the conversation; he wouldn't have been able to follow it even if he tried. Too many thoughts were racing through his head, so quickly that no thought stuck around long enough for Harry to make any sense of it. Feeling Remus's eyes on him, Harry looked over at him. The tired, pale eyes of Remus Lupin bore into Harry's eyes searchingly. Harry could see the concern and worry etched into the prematurely lined face of his parents' friend. Remus nodded towards Harry's bowl. Harry relented, grabbed his spoon, and swallowed a mouthful of Mrs. Figg's homemade soup. The heat soothed his constricted throat. Without further thought, Harry ate his bowl clean, not even pausing when Mrs. Figg ladled more soup into his bowl.
"Quite delicious, Arabella. Thank you so much for opening your home to Remus and me," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. Still trying to sort through his thoughts, Harry resumed staring at the top of the table.
"Of course, of course. You know I would do anything to help," Mrs. Figg said, clearing the remainder of the dishes from the table.
"Your help is greatly appreciated. Now then, I dare say we need to get to the matter at hand." Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a small stack of papers appeared in front of him on the table.
"I'll leave you to take care of business. Let me know if you need anything," Mrs. Figg replied, exiting the kitchen.
An eerie silence enveloped the kitchen. Harry stared hard at the table top, not trusting himself to look up. He could feel the eyes of Remus and Dumbledore on him. He did not feel worthy of their concerned looks. The presence of Kreacher sitting in the corner also encouraged Harry to stare at the table. The house-elf brought back too many memories, too much pain, too much guilt.
Remus broke the silence, saying, "Are you feeling all right, Harry?"
Harry continued to stare at the table, his eyes following the curves and lines of the wood's grain. He had not yet found his voice, so he nodded. Harry sensed, rather than witnessed, the skeptical glances between Remus and Dumbledore.
"Well, then," Dumbledore began, "let's get started." Dumbledore leaned forward and focused those piercing blue eyes on Harry. "Remus and I have come here today to talk about a few things. First off, we have some paper work that must be addressed. I don't expect this to be an easy task for you, Harry, but this needs to be done."
Harry, his curiosity piqued somewhat, looked at Dumbledore and nodded.
"These papers," Dumbledore said, waving his hand over the stack, causing the papers to separate into several smaller piles, "all have to deal with Sirius's estate."
Harry flinched at the sound of Sirius's name. I don't want to do this … I can't talk about this … why do I have to do this?
Dumbledore, seeming to read Harry's mind, said, "I'm sorry we have to do this, Harry. But, as Sirius's godson, you have inherited his entire estate."
Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. He wasn't surprised, exactly. If he thought about it, Sirius had no other family that he would leave his estate to. But that was the point – the thought of Sirius's estate had not once crossed Harry's mind. It seemed, even now, unimportant; a frivolous thing, really, compared to the constant ache Harry felt. Harry fought to find his voice, wanting to tell Dumbledore that he didn't want this, but failed. His voice would not come to him, and so Dumbledore continued.
"First thing, Harry, is the contents of the Black vault at Gringotts," Dumbledore said, grabbing one of the stacks of papers in front of him. "The amount is indicated here, on the first page," Dumbledore said, placing the papers in front of Harry.
Harry glanced down at the paper where Dumbledore had indicated, not really caring what it said. The number was rather large, larger than Harry would have expected, but Harry would rather both bank vaults be empty and have Sirius back instead. He waited for Dumbledore to continue.
"Now, you need to sign here on the first page, and then here on the third page," Dumbledore indicated to Harry, flipping through the pages. A beautiful scarlet quill and silver ink bottle appeared in front of Harry. Harry leaned forward, grabbed the quill, and dipped it into the ink bottle. He signed in the spaces indicated, then laid the quill back down, his movements strained and robotic.
"These papers will be sent to Gringotts and the vault's contents will be moved into your own. Here, Remus, if you will sign as a witness," Dumbledore continued, passing the papers to Remus.
"Second thing, Harry, is the house in London," Dumbledore said. Harry knew he was referring to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced over at Kreacher, who had remained seated in the corner with a scowl on his face. Feelings of hurt and anger welled up inside Harry yet again.
"I-I don't' want it," Harry muttered, struggling to get his voice to work and clenching his fists on the table.
"Please, Harry, hear me out," Dumbledore replied.
"Sirius hated that place, and so do I. I don't want it, " Harry stated, his voice finding some strength.
Dumbledore sighed. "You're right Harry. Sirius did hate it. It reminded him of everything he so desperately tried to free himself of. And I have no doubt you feel the same way about it. However, it is not up to you to make any decisions about the Black house, at this time."
Harry stared at Dumbledore. "Then why are we talking about it?" Harry snapped, and then scolded himself for speaking that way to the Headmaster.
Dumbledore ignored Harry's tone. "It is true, Harry, that the house has been left to you. However, property cannot be legally owned by underage wizards. Therefore, until your seventeenth birthday, someone must hold it for you in trust. Sirius has named Remus to this position."
Harry turned his head to look at Remus. Remus had been watching silently, absently twirling the scarlet quill in his hand. He gave Harry a reassuring nod.
"There's something else you need to know in regards to the house, Harry," Dumbledore stated, as Harry turned to face him again.
"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, making sure to address him appropriately.
Dumbledore stared into Harry's eyes, as though searching for something.
"Of course, everything within the house is included in this arrangement, " Dumbledore began. Harry nodded. "Everything, including Kreacher," Dumbledore said slowly.
Harry put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table.
"Kreacher is now bound to you, Harry, and for the next year, to Remus," Dumbledore explained.
Harry tried to work through this new information. So that's why he's here…that cursed house-elf is now mine … great, just great, Harry thought to himself. He took his hands away from his face, but could not bring himself to look at Kreacher. Instead, he looked at Remus.
"I don't know about you, Harry," Remus said softly, "but the first thing that came to my mind was to get rid of him."
At last, someone was making sense, Harry thought.
Remus continued, "However, Professor Dumbledore has reminded me of a few things that we must take into account."
Harry remained silent, waiting for Remus to explain. Remus leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table.
"Kreacher knows too much, Harry. If we sent him out of the house, he may be more likely to betray us." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Remus raised his hand to stop him. "I know, Harry. Kreacher has already betrayed us all. He has already shown us that he is a liability. That's why it's so important for us to keep an eye on him. He is now bound to us, Harry. He takes orders from us. We cannot afford to give him the opportunity to divulge anything else. As hard as it may be to understand, as difficult as it may be to have a constant reminder of Kreacher's role in Sirius's death, we must keep him, Harry."
Harry hated to admit it, but he knew Remus was right. If they were to free Kreacher, they would be taking the risk of leaking valuable information to the Death Eaters. Living at headquarters for the Order, Kreacher knew far too much.
Harry forced his eyes over to Kreacher. The house-elf glared back at him, daring Harry to disagree.
"You're right," Harry said, "he has to stay." Kreacher slouched on his stool, crossed his arms, and stared daggers at Harry.
Professor Dumbledore pushed more papers in front of Harry and Remus to sign, finalizing the arrangements for the house as discussed.
"Now, Harry. There's just one last item we need to cover in regards to Sirius's wishes," Dumbledore said.
Harry sighed. He was already feeling drained by the process already. Harry looked at Dumbledore, who glanced at Remus, and then continued. "It has to do with your guardianship."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "My what?"
"Your guardianship. Yes, Harry, you are nearly an adult and in all practical means, you are in no need of a guardian," Dumbledore began, pushing an envelope towards Harry. "But, seeing as you are not yet of age, Sirius has left some instructions. He has left this letter to you, which should explain his wishes."
Harry's mouth went dry. His heart jumped into his throat, and he was filled with a mixture of anxiety and hesitation. He stared at the envelope lying on the table before him. In Sirius's familiar script, Harry read his own name.
"Would you like us to leave you alone, Harry?" Remus asked.
"N-no. That's all right," Harry said, not really knowing what to expect from the letter that lay in front of him. With a shaking hand, Harry reached for the envelope, turned it over, and pulled out the letter within. The sight of Sirius's handwriting caused a prickling behind Harry's eyes, and his throat constricted slightly.
Keep yourself together, Harry scolded himself. Harry blinked hard, took a deep breath, and began reading.
Dear Harry,
I'm going to start off by apologizing. For what, you ask? Well, if you're reading this, it means that something has happened to me, and for that, I am sorry. I am sorry that you have had to lose yet another person in your life.
Please promise me that you will not blame yourself for anything that might have happened to me. I know you, Harry. You're blaming yourself. Please don't. I am a stubborn, and might I say, brilliant man, who knows full well what he is getting into. It would hurt me so if you felt responsible in any way. Please don't, Harry. It wasn't your fault. In case you didn't get it the first time, it wasn't your fault.
I think of all you've been through already, and I wish that I could have been there for you more. What joy it would have given me to have raised you from a baby – to have seen your first steps, your first day of school, your first Quidditch match, and so many other firsts that not only I, but also your parents, were denied. Regardless of those missed moments, I have treasured every moment I have spent with you. Your parents would be so proud of the man you have become. I, myself, could not be prouder, or have loved you more, even if you were my own flesh and blood. You are an extraordinary person, Harry, and you have terrible burdens to bear. Know that I will be with you, Harry, in some form or another, fighting right beside you.
Now, I know that you are very capable of taking care of yourself, Harry, but I have one request. You have spent too much of your life with people whom you despise, and it would give me such pleasure to make sure that you will always be surrounded by those who love you. So, as my last request, I have asked Remus to be your godfather. I trust this man with my life, and ask you to trust him with yours. I know he loves you, as I do, Harry. He will do anything for you without thinking twice. I want him to be there for you and to share with you everything that I cannot. He is a kind, unselfish, loving man, and it is with great love for you both that I ask you to share this bond. Remus will take good care of you, Harry. Please let him.
With you always,
SiriusHarry's eyes were burning. The horror of everything he had been feeling – the ache, the emptiness, the sadness, the guilt, the fear – threatened to break the surface. The honesty and sentiment of Sirius's words washed over Harry. He fought to keep up the walls that he had so carefully built and maintained. But Harry was not going to win this battle. He would have to be on the losing side for once. The walls were coming down. Harry buried his head in his arms on the table, and wept.