Albus Dumbledore wouldn't say that he had had the best of mornings, all things considered: first the news broke that Sirius Black had died while imprisoned in Azkaban. This was not catastrophic in it's own right, but it would cause some of his future plans to require scrapping or at least amending. The real problem however, started when every single tracking charm, spell and hex, he had placed on Harry Potter, stopped working at the exact same moment.
Although his calm and collected facade never wavered, Albus was frantically trying to figure out what had happened, exactly. When even Lily's blood wards couldn't pinpoint Harry's location, he had been really unsettled. The small boy was crucial to many of his future plans, after all. He had just been preparing for a personal investigation, when an urgent meeting of the Wizgamot had been called, that all but demanded his attention.
Now he could hardly send someone else to investigate the disappearance of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, when he had personally vouched for the child's safety on numerous occasions. Minerva would probably flay him alive, if she ever found out about this little incident. This session however had far too suspicious a timing. Without a doubt, whoever had apprehended Harry, was trying to use it to buy time. All Albus could do, was speed this charade along, so that he could focus on the real problem.
When he flooed into the Ministry, nothing in his demeanor signified that anything was troubling him and as the stepped into the Wizgamot's chamber, the murmuring of its members stopped immediately. A quick glance over the light faction confirmed, that none of them had called in this session. Lucius Malfoy however, seemed rather too smug for his liking.
Albus had hardly seated himself at the head table, when Minister Fudge rose from his own seat: "My esteemed Lords and Ladies of the honored and ancient Wizgamot, this is a dark hour indeed. The tragic news of the passing of Lord Sirius Black has undoubtedly reached all of you. Now, however dastardly his crimes may have been, his death none the less leaves on of the seats of this here chamber unfilled"
Albus could see his plans of a quickened proceeding evaporating before his very eyes. Now half the witches and wizards in attendance would begin to plead their case for the vacant seat and as always it would take hours for them to come to any conclusion. To him, it was quite obvious, that if indeed there were no male Blacks left, that Lucius' son could stake the best claim. This of course was less than ideal, but even the dire prospect of a supporter of the Dark Lord gaining more power, paled in comparison to Harry's vanishing. Yeah, the rich and dark Malfoys would get richer and darker, woe be!
Albus' thoughts on far more important matters, were interrupted however, when the old wooden door to the chambers of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black opened. There were gasps of surprise and shock, with the added bonus that Lucius looked far less smug now. When only a house elf with a raven perched on a cushion stepped trough though, this surprise turned to uproar and confusion.
The elf however, clad in regal, if ancient, robes denoting him as property of House Black, didn't seem at all bothered by the murmured commentary. He just placed the cushion down on the Black's Wizgamot seat and snapped out of reality with a crack.
"What tomfoolery is this?", roared an irate Lucius Malfoy, rising from his own seat so fast, it nearly got knocked over.
The raven just cocked its head at the man and opened its beak: "Lord Lucius Malfoy, I just thought it prudent to attend a meeting of this esteemed council and hear its decision regarding my seat within it". The ravens voice was clearly female but otherwise hard to place.
There was a gobsmacked silence before the ministers undersecretary bellowed: "It is impossible for House Black to have a female Head"
"Indeed, lucky then, that I never claimed to be the Head or even Lady of House Black. I am merely Lady Regent Black, until the heir to the house is of age"
Lucius flicked back his long blond hair in anger: "So you decided to find the rest of the Wizgamot unworthy of your presence, even for your first meeting attended, Lady Regent Black?"
"Oh not at all, I was merely concerned by the fact that the previous head of house was violently murdered and no investigation has gone underway for the circumstances surrounding it, so I felt my own safety was somewhat compromised"
The minister had paled considerably at the ravens words: "Sirius Black has been kissed by a Dementor at Azkaban, while attempting to escape"
"Surely you are mistaken, esteemed Minister. As is evident by the case of Lord Marianus Carrow in 1783, the lordship of a great house passes upon the death of its head, not at the point, at which the kiss is administered. So the previous Lord Black was clearly killed, and I would like to know by whom"
"He died escaping Azkaban!"
"So a guard killed him? An Auror? Did he fall down a flight of stairs and hit his head? As you can see, Minister, many questions still lay unanswered. Also, why was lethal force used to restrain him, when his sentence was only imprisonment for life? Or am I mistaken? I couldn't unearth his court proceedings or sentencing for the life of me"
"He betrayed House Potter and caused its near total demise by the hands of He-who-shall-not-be-named!"
"Be that as it may, I still find it concerning that the killing of the head of one of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses is not deemed worthy of an even cursory investigation by the Ministry of Magic"
Lucius was still furious but had gained back some of his composure: "Why are we even listing to this ruddy bird? Who says that it even is, what it claims to be?"
"Lord Malfoy you are more than welcome to demonstrate for all to see, what happens when someone deemed unworthy, takes the seat of House Black in the Wizgamot"
Undersecretary Umbridge cleared her throat overly loud before speaking: "Who is the heir apparent of House Black then?"
"Not that I understand who gave you the floor or the right to take it Undersecretary, but that is none of your business. Or anyone's, for as long as I deem it likely, that said heir is still in mortal danger from whoever killed the previous Lord"
For the longest time Albus Dumbledore had been too stunned, by what was unfolding before his eyes, to act. But now, seeing as Umbridge looked like she was about to hex the bird to hell and back, he stepped up to use this golden opportunity. Gently and with a grandfatherly smile he addressed the assembled Lords and Ladies: "Surely, we can all agree that the succession of House Black seems somewhat more secure than we had thought. Therefore I feel it most opportune to close this session and give all parties involved time to digest this new information"
Of course half the attendees agreed automatically, while the darker factions seemed to reluctantly consent to his assessment, so the session was quickly called closed. Upon rising, Albus was torn between investigating Harry's misplacement immediately and conversing with Lady Regent Black privately, to gauge her political standing. This choice was taken from him however, when her raven-messenger disintegrated into a cloud of black fathers.
Back at 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Harry stared with awe at the portrait of Walburga Black, who had just spanked the Wizgamot like a bunch of unruly children: "That was bloody brilliant!"
The portrait patted away some stray beads of sweat from her forehead with a black handkerchief before answering: "Let that be your first lesson, boy: House Black does not suffer fools, nor has there ever been a day, when the death of a Black did not cause the most dire consequences for those responsible, even for an abominable traitor, such as Sirius"
Harry was well aware that Walburga was a horrible person, but that didn't make her less capable politically. Even more so, it would probably turn out to be a huge boon, to have some guidance in this field and in general. Also she was a portrait, which made her incapable of beating him up, like his aunt and uncle did. Prone to verbal abuse she was, as she had shown already, but Harry was used to that. Kind of sad though, that he was thankful to be able to settle for that.
They were currently seated in one of the sitting rooms, this old mansion had decidedly too many of. Kreacher had made Harry a cup of tea, that did taste a little stale, but who was he to complain about offered refreshments. Walburga's portrait was propped up on a coffee table with an unsuspecting raven statue in front of her. Harry hadn't paid it much attention before, but now that it had demonstrated its purpose, he was utterly fascinated.
"Do not touch the raven under any circumstances", the shrill voice of his host brought him out of his musing.
"Wasn't going to"
"I am dead, boy, not stupid. While the thought of this device using up all your magic and leaving you a shriveled husk is somewhat amusing, I have already put to much effort into you, to let you die. Seeing as its use left me quite exhausted, I will rest, while Kreacher shall watch over you, after he has completed his punishment. I hope for you both, that no additional ones will be necessary"
"What punishment? What for?"
Walburga looked at him exasperated: "Because he attacked the reigning Lord Black with a knife"
"Yeah, because you told him to!", Harry yelled back, only to realize that the portrait had stopped moving. A clear sign that the conversation was over, if there ever was one. Still seething with rage, Harry contemplated throwing her picture frame out the window, but seeing as any random object in this house could seemingly kill him on a whim, he just about could restrain himself. Barely.
Why was it, that he once again seemed to be the only sane person in attendance? Was there a curse on him, that made anybody sharing a home with him, loose their respective minds? He was seven, for Pete's sake, why did he have to be the reasonable one here? Begrudgingly Harry got up from the, admittedly very comfortable, chair he was sitting on, still muttering about bipolar portraits and deranged elves.
He only stopped after a good while of aimlessly wandering the halls and after several deep and relaxing breaths. Once he had calmed down enough, he bellowed: "Kreacher!"
He wasn't sure, if it was the bond the elf now shared with him, or the fact that his yell had probably carried all over this deathly silent haunted house, but the dutiful servant answered none the less.
Kreacher somehow managed to look both better and worse, than when they first met: better because his ashen and sunken face had regained some color, worse because his hands looked like they had made recent and intimate acquaintance with a meat grinder.
"Yes bo... master?"
"That's right, I am Lord Black now, no?"
The grinding of elf teeth could probably be heard two counties over: "Of course, master"
"First of, I don't like your tone, elf. Secondly why was I not consulted regarding your atonement, when it is me, that was harmed?"
Kreacher was now watching him with curious eyes, as if seeing him for the first time: "The great mistress has deemed it most important, that this servant's misjudgment was dealt with quickly"
"Yeah, no, overruled"
Kreacher opened his maw to protest, but Harry took a, hopefully menacing, step towards the elf, aided by the fact that he was ever so minimally taller: "Were you about to talk back to me, elf? Cause if so, I will have to dissuade you of that motion real quick"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Master"
"Excellent, now where were we? Oh right, I deem your current punishment pointless at best and harmful to the House at worst"
The magical servant looked like he had just been slapped in the face: "Harmful to the house?"
"Certainly. As of this moment you are an invaluable asset to my Lordship, how dare you harm your body, that is mine to command, in atonement for your failures! No, if you are unable to serve me properly, your punishment shall still be of service to me and the house and nothing else.
So instead of whatever foolishness you have been practicing, you will rather find and organize every single book in this mansion of mine and sort it by how vital the information within, is deemed by you, for my lordship. You may consult with Lady Black on that, once she has recovered. Before that though, I require a bath"
The little elf looked delighted in the worst way: "At once, young master"
Kreacher reverently touched his arm and plopped them both in an opulent bathroom. Soon a steaming hot tub waited to delight and relax Harry. As soon as the elf had left to follow his other instructions though, Harry immediately dropped his lordly facade. He really needed that bath, he had never felt dirtier in his entire life. Not only had that snobby and haughty way of talking to the elf worked, Kreacher now seemed to like him more for it.
Worse still was that Harry had used a certain someones memories for reference in his demeanor, which really made him sick to his stomach. Mechanically he stripped out of Dudley's hand-me-downs, vowing to have Kreacher burn them soon, before slipping into the hot water. As soon as the pressure of this new situation faded even slightly, Harry was overwhelmed with emotion. Finally he was free from the hellhole that had been Privet Drive, never again would he have to see the walrus, the sea hag and the fat flounder.
Then again, was this really better? Living with the portrait of a long dead and thoroughly bigoted woman and a house elf that only seemed to accept him, after being treated like dirt. The memories of the dark wanker didn't paint a pureblood childhood in the rosiest colors, either. But the wealth of knowledge this had opened up to him, should be worth any amount of discomfort, right? Also there was the, well, literal wealth of the Blacks. For all the uncertainties, Harry was pretty sure that both Walburga and Kreacher wouldn't go out of their way to harm him, at least. So that was an improvement.
More than anything else though, Harry was just exhausted. This morning he had cooked breakfast for his horrible muggle relatives and now he was supposed to be the Lord of an most ancient magical House? Talk about emotional whiplash! After a time of scrubbing his body clean furiously, Harry decided on a course of action, that had worked well in the past: he would just go with the flow and face the challenges as they presented themselves.
Seeing as the water was beginning to cool down, Harry hoisted himself out of the giant tub with some difficulty, just about to call for his elf, when Kreacher appeared with an towel and a gown in hand, that would fit into any Victorian era movie production. Harry took the offered towel without so much as a thanks, frowning a bit at how coarse it felt against his skin. Without acknowledging the still present elf, he continued his ordering spree: "As it is late, I wish to retire to my bedroom soon. You have already prepared it for my rest, most certainly"
After a moment of telling silence, Harry sighed exaggeratedly: "Well elf, I hope for your sake, that it is ready by the time I am dried of and dressed"
Another crack left Harry alone to do just that. Though Kreacher must have been a better tactician than he had thought, because this gown had far to many buttons to close and was all in all more complicated, than it needed to be. As such, Harry was still struggling with it, when the house elf returned.
Only moments later, Harry concluded his first day in the Black family manor in a comically large canopy bed. He couldn't help but feel a bit lost in all this empty space, but as he had more than learned, this was way better than being terrified in confinement.
AN: Thanks to any and everybody, that has interacted with this story in any way, shape or form. I really do appreciate it. In return, I hope you will find some enjoyment in what my mind can come up with. As is fairly obvious, I don't own any of the occurring characters, and probably won't, because I don't think that OC's will feature heavily, or at all.
Also, I am somewhat undecided on how bashy the story will get, but lets just say Dumbs won't get through this unscathed. He just makes himself to easy a target.
Again, I thank you for reading even this rambling,
Wilcen
