Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Nineteen
Resolutions, Half and Final
"Well, that's enough, I guess," said Harry. "Time is gold, as the goblins say. Where do you want to go, Romilda? What do you want to do?"
"Someplace quiet," said Romilda. "Out of the mainstream. Where it is unlikely the Bergs would look, or stumble across me by accident. I don't know enough to know what is best. I was so young when I was married off and went to Our Place."
"That's understandable," said Harry. "Now, listen carefully and tell me, do you have anything else that might be traceable? How about yourself? Did Lorenzo put a trace on you? Did he hand you off to a witch, perhaps, who could have hexed you or carried out some procedure you didn't understand at the time?"
"No, I don't know of anything I've got or anything they might have done to me that would put a trace on me," said Romilda.
"Fine," Harry said. "Just so you know, Romilda, we didn't have space on our To Do lists for this. We made space. Now we're going to take you at your word. Your part will be to go to ground and stay there. Get your things together."
Harry went to the fireplace and tossed in some floo powder.
"Leaky Cauldron," he said. "Hannah? Neville?"
"It's Neville, Harry," said a voice.
"Neville, do you have a room for the night?" Harry asked.
"Sure, how many?"
"Just a single," said Harry.
"Come on through," said Neville.
Harry looked at Pansy.
"Please go with Romilda, who will go up to her room and stay there until one of us comes to get her, right?"
The question was for Romilda, not Pansy.
Romilda nodded.
"Hannah can charge me," Harry said. "We'll minimize your time out of the room. Have your meals sent up. Conjure her a hat, Pansy. Something floppy."
Harry left the witches to get to it and went back to the breakfast room. James and Lily had gone back to sleep, so he left them alone and tried to use gentle motions to bring their drapes back and put them over the portraits' frames.
The witches were gone when Harry got back to the salon. He looked around for anything that needed to be put right, then headed out through the front door where he refastened the planks. Stopping at his usual apparition spot, Harry cast his patronus and gave it a message to take to Daphne.
"Harry here. I may be able meet you and look at your project materials later this evening, if you're free. Sometime after eight? If you can't I understand."
Harry got back to #12 Grimmauld Place and headed straight upstairs for a shower. He kept his head in the stream of water, trying to turn off thinking. Harry still had a feeling he was missing important information, but he was no closer to pinning down what exactly that was.
Out of the shower and kitted out in fresh clothes, Harry was still in his bedroom when his patronus returned.
"Can I come by the townhouse about 9?" said Daphne's voice.
Harry couldn't answer right away. The reality of seeing Daphne just because he said they would get together and discuss Greengrass business matters broke through. He'd have been better off tackling that project the next day. On the other hand, he was the one who'd proposed getting together to Daphne, and now she sounded eager, so Harry Potter was well and truly stuck with the result of his muddled thinking.
"Of course," Harry said, adding, "I'll be here."
Now he was in a vise. Harry hurried downstairs to the fireplace in the salon.
"Hermione, are you ready for us?" he said to the flames.
"Ready is an elastic term, Harry," Hermione replied. "You're welcome to come through."
"Just a couple of minutes," said Harry.
"Kreacher!"
Kreacher had Regulus upstairs and in the salon in considerably less than two minutes.
"Kreacher, we will be taking the floo to the Ministry," said Harry. "Are you ready?"
"Surely Master will be going, with Master Regulus?" Kreacher asked.
"No, we are all in this together. We all had a part," said Harry.
"Kreacher?" Hermione asked when Harry and party walked out of the floo at the Ministry.
"Madam Hermione," said Kreacher, bowing his nose-to-the-floor bow.
"And the late Regulus Arcturus Black," said Harry, nodding at their infieri companion.
"Very pleased…" Hermione began before she realized the error.
"He can't…" she began.
"We aren't sure just what," said Harry. "Of course, Regulus is dead, just reanimated. He did nod when I asked him. So, shall we be off?"
The few people still moving about in the Ministry recognized Hermione as an Unspeakable, assumed the infieri to be a familiar and something they wished they could un-see and most ducked down corridors or into restrooms at the first opportunity. Harry had been worried Regulus would attract undue attention. In the end, the infieri caused no problem at all. Hermione had them downstairs, standing before the Veil in minutes.
"Kreacher?" said Harry. "Anything to say?"
"Kreacher would like to say that Master Regulus was a fine, fine master, and Kreacher feels terrible about Master Regulus' tragic end and wishes him a peaceful slumber."
"That's a very creditable thought, Kreacher," nodded Harry. "Commendable. Very commendable."
"Regulus, when you encounter Sirius, give him my best regards, and tell him I miss him as much today as the day he died. He was a great wizard," Harry finished.
Regulus stood still, looking back and forth between Harry, Kreacher and the Veil. Then, with a final bow, Regulus turned and passed through the arch. Harry thought the volume of the voices coming from the other side went up as Regulus left them.
Something made a metallic sound just when Regulus crossed. Harry looked down and saw a ring. He bent over.
"Harry!" said Hermione. Harry stopped and stood upright.
"It's alright," he said, bending down again. Then, to himself alone: "Of course. You can't take it with you."
Harry picked up Regulus' Black signet. He stood, turning it over and over, looking at it from every angle. He couldn't sense any magic, Dark or otherwise. It seemed to be a ring, plain and simple.
"Kreacher," said Harry. "I will advise you strongly not to put this on your finger, because we can't be sure there is nothing about it that could cause harm, but I think you are the most appropriate custodian for this, perhaps with your other personal items."
Kreacher nodded. He hadn't spoken since his statement, his valedictory for Regulus.
Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were leaking a steady stream.
"Thank-you, Hermione," said Harry. "The Black family is in your debt."
Hermione escorted Harry and Kreacher back to the atrium, and the hearths that connected to the floo network. She stood there and watched them disappear in the green flames. She might not have been able to say exactly why but she felt better knowing they were gone.
Kreacher was very quiet at #12 Grimmauld Place. He disappeared for a few minutes, then sought out Harry and announced his return.
"Get the signet put away safely?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Master Harry, Kreacher is very grateful for such a keepsake," said the elf as he gave one of his deep bows.
"You know, Kreacher, I would like it if you would check in the storage areas and see if there are any portraits of Master Sirius and Master Regulus put away somewhere. It might be nice to see them as we go about our business here at #12," Harry said.
Kreacher brightened up immediately.
"Oh, and could I have a cup of tea? The green, I think," said Harry. "I'm going to read a bit and Miss Daphne may be coming by."
Harry went to the second drawing room, to his favorite chair, and picked up one of Bathilda Bagshot's magical histories. He managed to consume about half of his cup of green tea before he nodded off to sleep. Harry woke up in a confused state, not aware he had drifted off. Someone was standing next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Shh, shh," said a very solicitous, female voice. "It's me, Harry, it's me."
"Daphne," said Harry. "Oh, sorry, I just…waiting…went to sleep."
He reached up and laid his own hand on top of the one on his shoulder.
Daphne gave Harry a huge smile.
"It's fine, Kreacher took good care of me. You've got a real family retainer there, Harry Potter."
"I know," Harry said. "Thank-you for noticing. It's kind of ironic, considering our rocky start."
"Maybe he's an example for all of us. Ready to look at some Greengrass financials?"
Harry suggested they lay everything out on the dining table to make a literal and figurative overview easier. Daphne had shrunk everything to pocket size for running around. She put the miniatures out and set about restoring it all.
"Can you collect everything that is going out?" Harry asked as they got started. Daphne began a pile of invoices and checks for recurring payments.
"You can keep the payments to the goblins for the note on the manor separate," Harry said. "I'll just waive those for now, until you get Cyrus in a bit more solvent state."
They worked for an hour before Harry noticed they were both flagging.
"Long day?" he asked.
"Yes," said Daphne. "Tomorrow will be better. I have office hours, and that's it."
"Why don't you go home, then?" asked Harry. "This will all be here, just like it is. Kreacher will leave it alone, and I'm not throwing any dinners."
"Oh," said Daphne. "That's helpful. I guess I'll just be…"
They stood there, looking at one another, hesitant to embrace because it would make it so hard to keep to their plan. Someone had to move, though, or they'd be frozen in place all night. Harry opened up his arms, and Daphne stepped into them.
"Nice," Harry said, holding on, his lips an inch from Daphne's ear.
"Mm-hmm," said Daphne, letting her palm rub Harry's back. "I don't have to go."
"Of course," said Harry. "If I hadn't broken everything, years ago, we might have been…"
He thought about the end of his sentence.
"…going upstairs to our room right now," was the rest of it, the part he didn't say.
"We can't get distracted," said Harry, changing course a bit. "I meant what I told Cyrus. You're doing this because it's the right thing to do. We both know it's better to keep the business separated. Who knows, one of these days we may actually have joint business, what's that called?"
"Community property?" asked Daphne.
"It's nice to think about," Harry said. "We just don't need to get ahead of ourselves right now."
"Of course you're right," said Daphne, "But still. Fine, then, just one?"
"Shouldn't hurt," Harry said.
Daphne put both of her hands on Harry's face and kissed him, taking her time and doing a thorough job.
"Perfect," said Harry at the end.
"Thank-you," said Daphne. "G'Night."
"G'Night."
Harry climbed the stairs, thinking about his list of things he had to do the next day. He and Pansy had to find a solution to the Romilda housing problem. They might be done with the Bergs, but then again, they might not. Harry felt some responsibility for Romilda, just because he had taken all of her decision-making capacity away. If that was because of fast-changing events and the need to react to a situation requiring immediate action, he had still assumed a protective function. Events had simply spun out of anyone's ability to predict or control.
Harry still thought he was working with incomplete information. He conceded, in his internal dialog, that Romilda couldn't be expected to be naturally forthcoming. From the age of sixteen she had been betrayed by the people who should have been her protectors and thrown into an environment that demanded constant suspicion of others' motives, duplicity and concealment of her thoughts and actions. When she escaped her untenable situation her tormentors initiated an assassination plot. Harry knew about being young and under too much stress. The remarkable part might be that Romilda had not yet gone berserk and attacked Pansy or himself with an axe.
When Harry got up the next morning, he had his agenda filled in up to the point where Daphne finished her office hours and came to #12 Grimmauld Place to continue with their project to put some discipline into the Greengrass family's financial affairs.
He began with an early breakfast at home. The dining table was fully engaged with the Greengrass matter, so he went to the kitchen, where he found Kreacher pouring Harry's first cup of a very aromatic coffee.
"Smells delicious, Kreacher," said Harry as he sat down at the long wooden table.
Two small portraits stood on easels at either end.
"Master Sirius and Master Regulus?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Master, Madame Walburga commissioned them, I believe Master Sirius was fourteen and Master Regulus thirteen at the time."
"Good-looking young wizards," said Harry, eliciting very wide smiles from the two.
"And you're enchanted?" asked Harry. "Well, that's a bonus."
"Thank-you," said the wizards in unison.
"Harry, Regulus…" Sirius began before choking up.
"Portraits are paint and canvas," teased Harry. "You aren't going to try to cry, are you Sirius?"
This got laughs from both of the wizards.
"It was the least I could do, considering all that the Blacks have done for me," said Harry. "Even if it was accidental. Now, I was thinking of putting you guys over the dining table. Opposite sides of course, so you can easily keep an eye on one another."
"Oh, I thought we'd go back to our old rooms," said Sirius. "Familiar haunts. We'd be the familiars. And haunt!"
"That isn't even a good pun, Sirius," said Regulus.
"Are there any?" asked Sirius. "Good ones?"
The portraits traded jibes while Harry worked his way through fried eggs, toast and a glass of orange juice.
"We'll have to work on it later," Harry said as he stood. "Get some rest, you're not teenagers anymore. Kreacher, I've some things to do. Healer Daphne will be coming by to work with all that paper laid out on the dining table. If I'm not here you can take care of her until I get back, can't you?"
Of course Kreacher could. That was a dumb question.