Taking Flight
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Two: Home
The following morning found Harry in his new flat, located four kilometres from Charing Cross, two from the nearest tube station and within the bustling tourist attraction that was the Camden town markets. As the file had read, the place was in good repair if not a bit dusty and Harry settled in happily, free from Dumbledore's reach and better yet, free from his relatives permanently. It was a good feeling to have.
When the place was free of dust and cobwebs, Harry wrote up a list of things he'd need to buy, grateful he'd had the forethought to have a transfer of galleons to pounds made while he'd still been at the bank. No doubt, Professor Dumbledore and whoever he had guarding Harry would have learnt of his escape by that point and surely, wizarding Britain would be up in arms soon enough. It was probably best if he avoided magical locations for the time being. At least until the fervour died down.
But then he remembered that he had seven loyal house elves that would probably cry if they realised their master was doing the work that they themselves took pride in accomplishing. Ironhand had explained that the seven elves had been waiting patiently for Harry's eventual summons, their time spent keeping the Potter family manor up to par.
Once he'd rolled his eyes at himself, Harry cleared his throat and summoned one of the elves owned by the Potter family. He'd looked up their names in the ledger and had been somewhat amused to find that they were all named after different dances: Foxtrot, Tango, Cha Cha, Waltz, Boogie, Jive and Salsa..
Whatever the case, he called the elf in charge, an elf slightly taller than Dobby, clad in a butler suit and apparently far more sane than Dobby could ever hope to be.
"Foxtrot is pleased to be serving his master once again." The elf bowed lowly, straightened up and queried, "What may Foxtrot do for Master Harrison?"
"Foxtrot, welcome to my current lodgings. We're currently at my flat in London, but as you can see, things are a bit sparse right now. I wondered if you or the other elves could make it more liveable? Replace the furniture, provide pots and pans, things like that."
Foxtrot bowed. "We elves will be happy to serve, Master Harrison. Would you be wanting anything else?"
"Just remember that we're in a muggle building, surrounded by muggles but otherwise, that's all I'll need for now. Thank you, Foxtrot."
Foxtrot disappeared with a pop and returned with two more elves in tow. They bowed reverently to Harry, greeted him with lines similar to that which Foxtrot had and together, they set to working on the flat.
Unsure of how they'd feel about him loitering while they worked, Harry left the elves to their work and made his way down to street level. He found his way to the markets, already crowded with locals and tourists. He browsed for a while but eventually returned to the flat where, unsurprisingly, the elves had accomplished their task with frightening efficiency. The second bedroom had been converted into a study, all of the drab furniture had been replaced, photos lined the walls, books the shelves and a fire crackled in the magical fireplace. It was rather cozy, he thought.
Harry knew he had things to do that he couldn't put off, however, and so he made his way to his new study, settled in the leather chair behind the desk and withdrew writing materials from the top drawer. First thing's first: he would pen a letter to the only friend he trusted with knowledge of the things Harry needed to learn - and fast.
Neville
I find myself in need of your assistance, concerning my inheritance and all that which goes with it. If you are inclined and able to help me, please reply with a time, date and location where we can meet.
Any aid you might offer would be appreciated greatly.
Kind Regards
HJP
Hedwig, whom Harry had not been surprised to find on a perch in the living room, waited patiently for Harry to tie the bound missive to her leg, affectionately nipped his finger and took off for destinations unknown.
Once Hedwig had disappeared out of sight, Harry withdrew another piece of parchment and began a letter to his godfather. There were some things as Lord Black that Harry needed to do, but without Sirius or Neville's input, those tasks would go unaccomplished.
Sirius
As you've no doubt heard already, I've left Privet Drive. I headed to the Leaky Cauldron and from there to Gringott's, at which point I claimed my inheritance, not just as the heir apparent to the Ancient and Noble house of Potter, but also as the heir apparent to the Ancient and Noble house of Black. And what a surprise they were.
I'd rage about being left out of the loop concerning a matter that is really quite important, but as things stand, I've got far greater priorities than to waste time crying over spilt milk. However, I am not pleased with the adults in my life, none of whom have seen it fit to inform me of my heritage and my future role within the greater wizarding society.
As the newest Lord Black, I find myself with certain tasks to accomplish, though I am not sure how I am to do so. As I've somewhat usurped your rightful title, I have no doubt that you know exactly what I have to do to see my afore mentioned tasks through.
With that said, I am asking you in the role of your godson to help me out with these matters, without influence from other parties. I am sure you know who I'm talking about. Whatever the case, I'll be waiting outside of Buckinngham Palace at exactly midday tomorrow. Come alone or don't come at all.
Sincerely
HJP
"Foxtrot."
The elf appeared with an almost inaudible pop, bowed lowly and enquired, "What may Foxtrot be doing for Master Harrison this afternoon?"
"Foxtrot, I need a letter delivered to someone, but I don't know where they live. Would you be able to deliver it?"
"Yes, Master," Foxtrot replied, "Master Harrison is just to tell Foxtrot whom he wishes to receive the letter and Foxtrot will see it done."
Harry gave a pleased smile, bound the scroll with a blue coloured ribbon and handed it over to the loyal elf without hesitation. "The letter is to be sent to Sirius Black. He was framed for his crimes, but until the true traitor of my parents can be caught, he will continue to remain a fugitive. That's why I think he'll be hidden somewhere very secure. Be careful and try not to be seen by anyone but Sirius."
"Yes Master Harrison," the house elf replied, bowing once again. "Foxtrot will not be disappointing his master."
Foxtrot popped away and Harry turned back to the study desk. The elves had obviously unpacked his things because the two ledgers for the Potter and Black estates were set to the left of Harry, enormously thick and only the beginning of everything he'd have to go through. He hoped Neville got back to him soon.
With a sigh, Harry pulled the Black family ledger in front of him, cracked it open and began to seek out the total values of everything he inherited from the Black family. He'd not gone through a summary of the Black family holdings with Ironhandd, but he had made arrangements for an appointment with the account manager. The goblin's name was Throatsmasher and perhaps justifiably, Harry was somewhat nervous to meet him. Either way, he thought he might as well learn as much as he could about the Black family accounts beforehand, though it wasn't as if he understood much of what had been written.
He'd not listened in the Introduction to Economics class he'd had in primary school, as was obvious. Regardless, he put in the effort and by the time he was ready to grab some dinner, he at least understood that the Black vaults had a total of 21 million galleons, a net worth of 4 million galleons in precious stones and metals, no shares, one house elf and a net worth of twelve million galleons in housing across the globe."
It was astounding the shear amount of wealth the two houses - individually - owned, more so when they were combined, though Harry tried not to think about those totals. Instead, he wondered at the contrast between families like the Potters and Black and families like the Weasleys whom, Harry knew, was rich in homely comforts, though pretty much dirt poor in terms of finances.
If old families were filthy rich then how did the Weasleys, ancient as they were - Ron had boasted enough about it - become borderline destitute? Familial wealth would have accumulated over the years, surely?
Whatever the case, it wasn't his business so he let the thought lie and instead traversed his flat to reach the kitchen. The elves had pre-prepared seven days worth of meals and he helped himself to one of the dinners then, confused by the strange aftertaste he received after each mouthful, but too famished to really think about it.
After eating, Harry worked on his summer homework for a time and when he'd finished, nine o'clock had passed and Harry was ready for bed. He packed up his things, made his way into his bedroom and reluctantly changed into the silk pyjama bottoms the elves had provided.
They'd gotten rid of all his other clothes, to replace them with wizarding attire of all colours, cuts and materials, from tunics, leggings and undershirts to robes and cloaks, new school uniforms, formalwear and everything else Harry had seen his peers wear over the years. He'd wondered warily where the elves had gotten the clothes, though thought that it was best if he didn't ask.
After he'd cleaned his teeth, Harry returned to his bedroom, dropped gracelessly into his gloriously comfortable king-sized four poster and fell asleep, to dream of being eaten alive by a mountain of galleons.