Disclaimer – Harry Potter & co is not mine and no profit is made out of this work of fiction
Chapter 2 - A Gift from the Past
The clear sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, people were waving and greeting each other happily on the streets, and a tall, thin man appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the living-room of the house from number four, Privet Drive, Surrey; all in all, nothing out of the ordinary for this small part of the world.
Only the slightest pop of displaced air could have drawn the attention to the man's arrival, a testament to his highly developed skills and abilities. Anyone who would have seen him would have had no problem in figuring out just what this man was supposed to be: his waist-long white beard and hair, along with his blue robes and blue pointed hat screamed wizard for the entire world to hear.
The wizard, for he really was one, and a most famous one at that, looked around with undisguised interest, checking the premises. He seemed a little disappointed when he discovered that no one was around. Not only did the room in which he was feel empty, the entire house felt abandoned as well. Intrigued, he made two steps into the hall, and carefully entered the kitchen. Again, he found nobody.
He stopped for a moment in the middle of the kitchen to think, unhurriedly combing his long, gnarled fingers through his thick beard. All of a sudden, his eyes, behind his trademarked half-moon glasses, flared with power, and an instant later the old man was sure that beside himself and one other, there were no human beings inside the normal looking house. He was most pleased with what he had found; though he would have liked to exchange some well thought words with the gracious hosts, he had learnt long ago that in life he couldn't always get what he wanted – though he did try nonetheless.
Always one to search for small details, he spotted some candy in a jar conveniently placed on a cabinet. Wasting no time, he served himself from the full pot. As he idly unwrapped the delicious looking bonbon, the face of a fierce looking woman shouting and pointing at a pile of yellow candy appeared in his mind. When he popped it into his mouth, he dismissed the thought; no matter what the healer might have said after his last health check, there was no way that these yummy little things were going to be the end of him. Munching happily on the sweet and gaily humming a lurid tune he turned around and made his way to the stairs that led to the upstairs room. He climbed them swiftly, with an agility that defied his age.
When he arrived in front of the room he soughed, he took a moment to check the assortment of locks, latches and other various locking instruments that adorned the rather plain looking wooden door. Somewhat amazed at the ingenuity that was spent securing the room, he casually waved his left hand and all the locks popped open. He pushed the door open and smiled warmly at the person that was on the other side.
Behind the door, in the middle of the small room, a boy of not yet sixteen years of age was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, serenely looking out the open window at the world outside. He was fully dressed; black shoes, blue gins, and a white t-shirt formed his current attire, all well-worn, all at least two sizes too big for his skinny frame. A black robe adorned with the distinct crest of Hogwarts was draped over his shoulders. Around him, disarray and chaos ruled the day in the room that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in about a year. Huge gray cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and Dumbledore thought that he would have locked the door just as tightly if not more so, if he would have had a room like this, just to keep the spiders inside.
"Hello Harry," the wizard warmly greeted the boy, just like a grandfather would welcome his favorite nephew.
The boy did not respond. He didn't even turn to welcome his guest. In fact, Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure that Harry even acknowledged his presence. Stumped by the lack of answer, and worried that something might be wrong with his young protégé, he did what every concerned parent would have done in a situation such as this: he presumed that an outside force, namely one that went by the name of Voldemort had attacked him, and that in the aftermath of the will battle that followed, his mind had collapsed under the vicious assault, or worse. He was just about to do the reasonable thing of sending a mild legilimency probe towards him when the boy slowly spun around.
"Hello Headmaster," Harry finally politely saluted Dumbledore. His voice was clear, and his eyes, two deep green pools, shone with an inner light that reflected the peace and tranquility of his soul. "What may I do for you?"
The question was asked in such a way that for the moment Dumbledore was taken aback. This was not the Harry he had expected to find. Judging by the tumultuous emotional state in which he had been only yesterday when he had left Hogwarts, combined with the awful fact that he had to live under the same roof as his rude relatives, Harry should have been by now a wreck of his former self, tortured by nightmares fueled by the weight of the ill fated prophecy and by the death of his godfather. It was a terrible fate for anyone, especially for someone as young as he. That being said, the calm and confidence Harry now displayed was surprising to say the least; a most welcomed surprise indeed.
Looking into Harry's eyes that were inquisitively doing the same to him, he was sure that nothing and no one had tampered with the boys mind. He was proud that the boy had succeeded in overcoming his demons in such a short time. Then again, he always had faith in the boy, even when the boy had none into himself. Beneath his beard Dumbledore's smile grew and his eyes began to twinkle more than before.
"Harry, I apologize for disturbing your vacation so soon," Dumbledore began, deciding that speaking with a collected Harry was much more pleasant than to converse with the epitome of anger and resentment Harry had embodied not too long ago. "But, the Order of the Phoenix and I are badly in need of your help," he confessed, stepping near the window, but careful not to touch the dust covered frame, trying to spot what could possibly have attracted Harry's attention earlier. Not seeing anything particular, he looked back at Harry.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the old man, urging him to go on. Apart from that simple gesture, he did nothing.
"My presence here has to do with Sirius, Harry, and more precisely with Sirius's last will and testament." If he had thought that the small piece of information he provided would produce a shock in the young wizard, then he was seriously mistaken. The expression of polite curiosity that Harry sported didn't waver for one single bit.
Dumbledore, due to his well trained eyes, had no problems in figuring out that Harry's grasp of occlumency had improved dramatically. The control he now displayed over his emotions was just short of astonishing. The lessons he had taken with Professor Snape really did pay off in the end; just like he knew they would, eventually.
"The will has been found and read, and, as expected, Sirius has left everything he owned to you, Harry," Dumbledore continued with a pointed look at the boy. Harry nodded in understanding, expecting as much. "And here is where our problem resides. The moment Sirius passed away, protective wards came up around our headquarters, wards that prevent us from entering it anymore. Thankfully, no one was inside when this happened. We could overcome them in time, but even so, it would be very hazardous for us to continue using the building without the accord of its current master. And that master is you, Harry."
"Of course, Headmaster, you have my full permission to use the building as you have done until now," Harry assured the wizard as if this would have been only a matter of the smallest importance.
"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore replayed graciously, "but I am afraid that the situation is not so simple remedied. As you very well know, all the fortunes of the old wizarding families are handled by the goblins, as it is stated by the standing treaties between our two civilizations. According to their laws, the key to the wards, as well as the rest of the Black wealth is to be passed to you, and only you, and only in your presence. For that we must journey up to Gringotts, together. And after that, because of the nature of the wards you must lower them personally."
"I see," Harry said pensively, his gaze drifting again outside the widow. Dumbledore corked his head as well, but again, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Very well then, when do we depart?" Harry asked normally, looking back up at Dumbledore.
"Right now, if it is all right with you. Is it?"
"My agenda is free for the rest of the day, so I see no problem with the proffered course of action," Harry alleged after appearing to peruse some mental files.
"Good, good. Harry, we will be using a portkey," Dumbledore said pulling a beautiful gold carved medallion from one of his robes' many pockets, "that has been gracefully provided to us by the goblins. It will take us directly to the office of the goblin solicitor in charge with the case. You do have your wand with you, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
"Good, never leave home without it. If we are all set, then let us be off to a new adventure!"
They both touched the portkey and with the activation password, grumbelbin-dorak, whispered by the Headmaster, they were whisked away in a jiffy, leaving behind an empty house, nothing more than a dreadful memory in the back of a young wizard's mind.
They landed almost immediately in a luxurious room decorated with complicated carved furniture and opulent red Persian rugs. Rich panoplies of weapons of all size and shapes adorned the gold painted walls.
Of course, Harry wasn't preoccupied with the room's furnishings at the moment of arrival. Tradition was a very powerful motivator in the wizarding world, and at that time, not even his new found inner peace was enough to pull Harry from its grasp. He had lost his equilibrium and had fallen, the painted ceiling unfolding itself to his eyes in all its glory. Leisurely, Harry climbed up to his feet.
One of the room's walls was a large window that let the rays of the sun bath the inside in a warm light. In front of the window there was a wide desk made out of massive wood and behind him, an elegant dressed goblin stood waiting patiently for them.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Dumbledore, welcome," the goblin said in perfect English, rising to his feet to greet them. He motioned with a wave of his right hand to the two brown leather covered armchairs in front of him for them to sit.
What followed was a most boring hour in which the goblin, who introduced himself as Gramin the Fifth, talked and Harry listened. The solicitor meticulously explained the ins and outs of the inheritance process with an avalanche of details, not in the least concerned if his audience listened to his words or not; this was the procedure in cases such as this, where huge amounts of gold were changing ownership into the hands of a person, Harry in this case, that didn't have the slightest idea about the process, and there was no way around it. He talked, and talked, and when he was finally done talking, he looked to see if the two wizards were asleep or not. Knowing who Dumbledore was, the goblin was not surprised to see him alert as always with a smile on his face, no doubt used to these useless speeches due to his work as Supreme Mugwump; his patience, honed by the passing of years, must have been short of infinite. When he looked at Mr. Potter, he was amazed that he couldn't detect a single sign of impatience or boredom on the young man's face. In fact, he couldn't detect anything other than a mild polite interest. The goblin was most impressed.
Seeing that he still had their attention, he dressed his voice with a discrete couth and began to talk again. This time he talked about more interesting subjects, such as the total value of the inheritance Harry was about to receive, and how to access it. And again, the minutes flew, the numbers rolled, and documents were scrutinized.
Finally, when the end was in sight, Gramin pushed a lonely official looking scroll towards Harry, announcing that he now only had to sign at the bottom and everything will be over. Beside the scroll a black feather also appeared.
Harry took the quill between his fingers, and with only the slightest hesitation he put down his name with a flourish at the bottom of the document. As the red ink was absorbed by the paper sealing the contract, he ignored the small sting he felt on the back of his hand.
That was approximately a quarter of an hour ago, not that Harry was counting the minutes or anything. Absorbed as he was by his little experiment, the trivial affairs of the world around him had little to no meaning to him. For he had found peace, and everything else was of no consequence.
It began the moment he had entered his dearly beloved room after he returned from Hogwarts. His loving uncle had closed the door behind him, sneering from below his mustache, and he was sure he had heard his cousin snigger from further down the hall. He was left in the dark, foreboding room, all by himself.
Harry clearly heard his uncle locking the door from the outside. The air of the room was fetid. The light switch didn't work. When he plumped himself on the bed, the mother of all dust clouds rose in the room, stinging his eyes and making him and Hedwig choke. He stumbled to the window through an atrocious coughing fit to open it, only to find it jammed. And outside in the hall his dear relatives were laughing at his expense.
To say that he didn't take it very well would an insult to the word understatement.
This, the Dursleys figured out when the house began to shake from all its joints. When they had been rudely knocked down off their feet, their smiles vanished from their faces. When cracks began to appear in the walls, they whimpered in fear. When an outrageous ear-piercing scream was heard coming from their nephew's room, leaving them with blood coming out of their ears, they thought the sky had crashed upon their heads.
And then it was over, just as sudden as it began. No more shaking, no more yelling. The silence was unreal. In perhaps the most intelligent display of intelligence that was ever manifested by the muggle family, they scrambled to their feet and hurried to put as much distance between Harry and them.
Behind the heavily locked door Harry was breathing slowly. While he was busy screaming his frustration out of his system, something happened. He had no idea what it was. It had felt like something snapped inside of him, like an elastic cord that was pulled too much, way beyond its normal breaking limits. The shock, which he felt through his entire body, left a tingling sensation in its wake.
In that moment he stopped screaming.
Curious, and a little confused, he lifted his hands in front of his face, slowly flexing and extending his fingers. Something had changed, deep within. But what?
Absentmindedly he reached again for the window's latch. It opened without resistance. The clear night's air invaded the room, and Harry pulled it deep inside his lungs. Much better.
He stood in that place, open mouthed, just gazing outside, with no thoughts passing through his head.
He could hear his heart pumping in a soothing rhythm in his chest.
He could feel the blood rushing through his veins.
He could feel the air as he breathed in and out.
His mind was clearer then ever before. There was no more anger anymore, no more worries, no more questions, no more nothing.
He was at peace. He was... content. And he liked it.
All his doubts, uncertainties and fears were buried in a hidden place, and Harry intended to keep them like that for as long as possible.
A ruffle of feathers drew his attention to his left. There, perched on the edge of the room's desk, his faithful familiar was watching him curiously through her big yellow eyes. During Harry's involuntarily display of power her cage had fallen and opened, releasing the proud bird.
Hedwig hooted affectionately when she saw her master looking at her and jumped on his outstretched left hand.
"Fly, Hedwig, fly!" was what he said to her, tossing the owl out the window. With a grateful hoot she took off, stretching her wings in the night's sky, a ball of snow soaring through the air. Hedwig circled the house a few times before she faded into the night to hunt her pray.
Harry remained behind, tracking her elegant flight.
He stood in that place in front of the window with a smile plastered on his face long after his owl disappeared from the sky.
The hours passed, the night became day, and he still hadn't moved at all.
The sun rose above the horizon and the neighborhood sprang to life and he was still there, looking away.
The first test to his new found tranquility happened when Albus Dumbledore entered his room.
He surprised himself with the way he dealt with the situation. It was like he was a spectator and the show was playing right in front of his eyes.
He watched with detachment how he answered Dumbledore's questions. He was amused to see himself falling down on the floor of the solicitor. He listened patiently while the goblin talked.
It didn't matter what he did or where he was. He was at peace, and he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else.
At the moment, he was still at Gringotts. Dumbledore had been detained for a short period of time with other minor problems, and Harry was waiting for him in a secure antechamber, watching a broad savanna through a wide window. The tall yellow grass was waving in the hot air and he had his eyes locked with a big lion that prowled on the edge of a small pond, under the shadow of a palm tree.
So concentrated he was with the large feline, he failed to notice a door opening silently in the wall behind him where previously there was none. He hadn't felt either the small person that sneaked behind him with silent steps. Only when a knotty hand yanked with vigor on his right elbow several times, did he turned his head to see who or what had taken an interest in his person.
And there, grinning like mad was the weirdest goblin he had ever seen. For one thing, he was old. His wrinkled face, covered by ugly scars, was disconcerting on its own, but when it was combined with the row of brown, sharp, dagger-like teeth that could be seen through his parted lips, it was downright frightening. He was almost bald, only a staggering number of six long white lonely hairs were sticking out from the top of his shining head, and he had his right eye covered by a black eye-patch. But the manic glint in his good eye was enough to make the coldest blooded person run for the hills in abject terror.
Of course, the effect his lineaments had on Harry's blood pressure was astonishing only by its complete absence.
When the aged goblin saw that he had the wizard's undivided attention he placed his right index finger at his own lips in a shushing gesture. Then he made a show of assuring that the coast was clear, and that no unwanted ears or eyes were picking on their meeting. Seemingly satisfied with his the result of his recognizance, he turned his eye back on Harry who was looking unwearyingly at him.
Under Harry's eyes the goblin pulled from under his plain leather tunic with a very careful gesture a long, slim black box. Holding it with both hands, like the most fragile piece of china the world had ever seen, he handed it to the young wizard.
"Open it," the goblin helpfully encouraged Harry with his croaked tired voice that had the uncanny ability of leaving deep gashes on people's brains.
Something about that box was very familiar to Harry, stirring memories long thought lost, memories he never thought he had. Even in the state he was now in, Harry could feel the attraction generated by the wooden container.
Without taking time to think, Harry lifted his left hand to grab to box. He was about to touched it when he stopped, his hand hovering an inch above the shinny box, the shadow of a doubt passing over his face. But then, the air surrounding the black container gave a small pulse and his fingers were abruptly pulled towards it against his will. As soon as he touched the box, its top sprang open soundlessly, revealing the contents inside.
There, patiently waiting for his or her master, on a layer of red velvet, stood a magnificent necklace made out of small shining stones shaped in the form of frozen tear drops. The tug Harry now felt toward the delicate piece of jewelry was almost physical in its nature and his heart began to increase its pace.
Harry hadn't had time to ask himself any questions for once the lid was opened the necklace levitated smoothly out of the box. It hanged in midair for the span of one long deep breath, before it flashed in the blink of an eye towards Harry, where it coiled itself tightly around his neck.
For Harry the world spun around, then it turned upside down, then he passed through an endless bright blue light and then he opened his eyes only to see a majestic lion looking with defiance directly into his eyes. The lion let out a deafening roar before he jumped into the tall grass of the savanna, vanishing from sight.
Harry blinked in confusion and looked around. He was alone, in the Gringotts' antechamber, the strange goblin nowhere in sight. He looked down, and in his left hand he saw he was holding the black wooden box, proof enough that he hadn't imagined his unusual encounter. After a quick check up, he noticed that the box was empty. He cautiously massaged his neck with his right hand, but he couldn't find any traces of the necklace. As he absentmindedly filed this information, he yawned. Fingering pensively the box in his hand, he placed it in one of his pockets with a casual move.
Just in time, for the antechamber's door had opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped inside with a worried look on his usual unflappable face.
Things were going well. Too well, in fact. So something had to go wrong. And it did. The Dursleys. Dumbledore had just received the grim news. The Dursley had packed their things and left on an extended holyday. Without Harry. How was he going to tell this to the boy? He had promised him that he would not keep things hidden from him any longer. So he decided to tell him straight to his face, head on.
"Hello Harry, I am afraid I have some not so good news," he said to the boy as soon as he had reached him. "I have just been told that your aunt and uncle along with your cousin had left the country and they will not be back until autumn. This is most unfortunately, for it leaves you without the much needed blood protection against Tom. Because of this reason I must ask of you to remain for the rest of the summer in the new house you have inherited from your godfather. I know that you do not like it there, but it is the safest place we have at the moment at our disposal." While Dumbledore talked he watched carefully the boy's face to see how he would react to such dire news.
"If that's what you wish, Headmaster," Harry nodded in acceptance. "After all, it is for the best," he managed to say before he yawned again.
Dumbledore was satisfied. Harry had matured enough to understand where the priorities lied. Though he might have been happier at the Burrow, it wasn't very safe, not with the increase in Death Eater activity. Maybe things weren't as bad as he had thought. And with Harry living at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, security wouldn't be a problem.
With the problem settled in a satisfactory manner, Harry and Dumbledore had left the bank by means of another portkey.
Of course, when they landed on the dewless lawn in front of Black Manor, Harry fell again. Tradition demanded. He climbed up, yawning more ardent than before. By now he could barely held his eyelids open.
"Are you all right Harry?" Dumbledore asked concerned, eyeing his tired face.
"Just a little tired, Headmaster. I hadn't slept much last night." Harry turned to look at the old house. "What must I do?" He was eager to get inside. The call of a bed was becoming stronger then ever.
"Just go to the door, put your hand on the doorknob, and state your name and what you wish to do. And the house's wards should comply," Dumbledore explained helpfully, forgetting to mention the possible gruesome demise that awaited anyone deemed unworthy by the wards. Throughout history, the Blacks hadn't been known for their tolerant policy towards trespassers.
The old wizard remained at a safe distance away from the house while Harry approached the door with hurried feet. He put his left hand firmly on the snake-like door handle and did as instructed. He spoke very fast.
"I, Harry James Potter wish to enter the house. I also allow entrance to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and to whoever else he deems necessary."
With that being said he eagerly pushed opened the door and stepped inside the gloomy house without hesitation.
He went straight towards the stairs, ignoring the hysterical shouts of greeting coming from an obnoxious portrait and climbed them with judicious help from the railing. He headed right towards Sirius's former private chamber.
Once inside his chosen room, Harry ignored everything else but the huge comfortable four-poster bed. He disrobed in haste, throwing his clothes around, not caring were they landed. Once he was done with them he climbed on the bed, crawled beneath the lime-green cover, yawned, and he was asleep before his mouth fully closed back.
During his long and heavy deep sleep he dreamed, the most wonderful and baffling dream he ever had.
When the dream was finally finished, he opened his eyes, a huge smile plastered on his face. And in the silence of the room he laughed like he hadn't done in what seemed like ages.
In high spirits, he jumped nimbly from the bed, fully rested and ready for the day ahead. His throat was dry and his stomach demanded food, but he ignored them. Right now he was too exited for such trivialities. There were so many things he had to do! He didn't know where to begin.
As he pondered at his next move, he dressed in a hurry, collecting his clothes from the strange various places in which he had thrown them. Fully dressed, he spotted his trunk at the foot of the bed. Someone must have brought it while he was asleep. God, for this would facilitate his new plans even more so. He kneeled beside his trunk. He placed both hands on the lid and stopped before opening it, another appealing thought creeping in his mind; he staid in that position for some time, weighting the pros and cons of his latest idea. Whatever the idea was, he seemed to like it, for his smile grew even larger.
Dismissing the trunk, he climbed to his feet and went to room's window and opened it, looking outside.
He tracked the flight of a white cloud on the blue sky and he nodded to himself.
Remembering how he had felt the day before, Harry closed his eyes and when he opened them he was back in his new found mental state of ultimate tranquility. He blinked again, and he was back to his normal exited self. He smiled, happy for his achievement.
Remembering something, he brought his hands to the back of his neck from where he unclasped a tinny hidden hook. As he did so, a sparkling necklace appeared in his grasp.
He held it carefully, examining the beautiful craftsmanship in the light of the day. He took it to his lips, and kissed it reverently. Harry then placed it with care inside its wooded box which went back into his pocket.
Diving from the sky, a ball of white feathers landed with precision on the window sill, hooting happily just as he was finishing with the necklace.
"Good morning to you too, Hedwig!" Harry cheerfully welcomed his one and only favorite owl, petting her feathers. "I foresee interesting times ahead of us," Harry couldn't resist joking with her using his best impersonation of Trelawney. Hedwig approved, hooting excitedly. Harry laughed.
He stayed for a long time there, in front of the window, with his familiar on his left shoulder, wondering about his future, his eyes glowing softly.
TBC...
Side Note
grumbelbin-dorak – according to Professor Ko's latest Gobbledegook Explicative Dictionary, this expression is roughly translated into modern English as filthy rich.