Chapter 3
When he stepped out of the Floo, he expected to see Dumbledore waiting for him. He did not expect what else he saw.
The room into which he fell was absolutely spotless. The smell of dust and mildew was gone from the air; while the décor was still far too dark in color for his tastes, the fact that it was all clean made it look at least a little brighter. It helped that the heavy, dark drapes had been pulled back to let the sunlight in through windows that sparkled.
The headmaster smiled at Harry's gobsmacked expression. "Yes, I, too, was quite surprised when I arrived. Kreacher has undergone quite a change, himself, as well."
Reminded that Sirius had left this place to him, Harry remembered the old elf and realized that he would have been included in the estate; he called him.
"Master calls Kreacher?"
The absence of insults was the first thing to grab Harry's attention. The second thing he noticed was that Kreacher was standing straighter than he had ever done as long as Harry had known him. The third thing was the fact that the elf's filthy, worn-out tea towel had been replaced by a fresh pillowcase, clean, pressed, and bearing the Black coat of arms. "Wow, Kreacher, you look good," he said.
"Master Regulus tells Kreacher to destroy locket. Kreacher is unable to do so for many years. Nasty, dark magic in locket whispers, whispers, always whispers. Locket makes Kreacher say nasty things. Then locket glows, and whispering stops. Locket is cleansed as Master Regulus wishes. And Kreacher is…Kreacher again."
"Kreacher, let me see this locket," Dumbledore said—all too eagerly, Harry thought.
The elf looked at Harry. "Does Master permit this?"
After a moment's thought, Harry replied, "Not right now, Kreacher. I'd like to hear what else Professor Dumbledore has to say first."
The headmaster was frowning now. "Harry, I'm sure Ron Weasley has already informed you of Voldemort's demise. I would like to know how you accomplished it."
Fixing his gaze firmly on the old man's nose, Harry said, "All I did was disown him from the House of Slytherin. Anything else, Lady Magic did all by herself."
"You…how did you do that?"
Harry showed his rings. "I'm now The Slytherin of Slytherin; with that authority, I disowned him for acting against his Head."
Several reactions warred for control of Dumbledore's features. "That was…utterly ingenious," he finally said, giving Harry the distinct impression that he did not enjoy admitting that. "But I am at a loss to understand how you gained that authority in the first place, at your age."
"I don't see where it's really any of your business, especially since you never told me about my heritage."
His attempts to meet Harry's eyes finally drew his attention to the fact that the boy's scar was missing. He sensed no glamour on him. "Harry, how are you hiding your scar?"
"It's not there anymore," he said. "Oh, let me guess. You knew it was a Horcrux, didn't you?" A wicked glee filled him at Dumbledore's quickly-hidden startlement; it was followed rapidly by realization, and even more anger. "You knew it was a Horcrux, just like you knew about that damn prophecy! You've been manipulating me all my life! You made me stay with people who hated me, who treated me worse than Mr. Malfoy treated Dobby so I wouldn't care if I lived or died, because you thought the only way to get rid of it was for me to die. Well, without me, who was going to kill Voldemort for you? You sure wouldn't! How many chances were you going to give someone who didn't want to change?"
"But all those others…"
Harry cut him off. "Professor Dumbledore, you're my Headmaster, and that is all. You are no longer my magical guardian, because Sirius emancipated me in his Will. So you have no business in my house. Kreacher, show him out. If he doesn't go willingly, eject him."
"Yes, Master." The implacable house elf began to usher the old man toward the front door; when he kept trying to sidestep the elf, Kreacher grabbed his arm and popped out.
All those others, Dumbledore had said. Did that mean all the Death Eaters were gone too? He wasn't sure of that, nor did he have any idea how it could have happened; he decided not worry about it.
A moment later, Kreacher returned alone. "Does Master wish Kreacher to bar old Whitebeard from returning?"
"Yes, please, Kreacher. In fact, if you can change the wards to keep the whole Order of the Phoenix out, I'd appreciate it. Voldemort's gone; there's no need for them to keep meeting here. Later you can show me how to update the wards to allow my friends through."
Kreacher went very still for a long moment; then he snapped his fingers. Harry felt something happen and knew that the elf had accomplished the deed. "Thank you, Kreacher."
The elf's eyes went wide. "Master thanks Kreacher for doing as he's told!" he said in surprise, though not in the tearful, almost histrionic way that Dobby had handled the same consideration.
"You may be a servant, but you still deserve courtesy. You'll always have it from me. Now, there's one more thing you can do for me before I leave. I know you loved your old mistress, but her portrait can really get annoying. Is there any way you can silence her?"
Now Kreacher seemed embarrassed. "Mistress says nasty things about new Master. Bond-magic does not allow Kreacher to tolerate this. Kreacher has already silenced her," he admitted in a voice gone very soft. "Only The Black can remove the portrait. Master is now The Black."
"Tell me how to do it…pleeeeeze?" Harry said eagerly.
.
He could see the look of despair on Walburga's face as he spoke the ritual declaration that released the portrait's sticking charm. The bottom of the frame hit the floor with a thud; a snap of Kreacher's fingers kept it from falling over onto Harry.
Another ritual declaration, Harry thought. That made two in a single day; he hoped this wasn't going to become a habit.
Walburga raised clasped hands to him in what was clearly an entreaty to be permitted to speak to him; wondering if he was going to regret this, he told Kreacher to restore her voice.
"You are now Head of House Black?" she asked, the slight emphasis on the pronoun evidence of the derision she was barely holding in check.
"Yes, I am."
He could tell she dearly wanted to start bemoaning the depths to which her once-great family had fallen, could practically feel her effort to hold it back; it told him a great deal about the extent of the authority wielded by a Head of House.
"How?" she demanded.
"Sirius left it to me in his Will."
She couldn't quite manage to suppress the haughty sniff. "He shouldn't have had it to pass on in the first place; I disowned him."
Harry shrugged, at a loss himself.
"Well, speak up; don't shrug. It's ungentlemanly."
"I don't know; Sirius didn't get a chance to explain it all to me. But my grandmother was Dorea Black." Her rebuke just now had started the wheels turning. "Enough. I've had a long day, and it's getting late. I'm willing to let you remain on this wall, unsilenced, if you will adhere to several conditions. First, I will not tolerate pureblood bigotry. I know you're locked into the beliefs you held at the time this portrait was made; you're to keep them to yourself from now on. That includes anything about Voldemort. He's dead, and so, apparently, are his followers. His cause is finished, and I want to put it behind me. Second… I need instruction. Albus Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore, also known as The Goat-Bearded One, deliberately kept me completely ignorant of my heritage; I only learned about it yesterday by accident. He kept me isolated from the wizarding world until I was eleven; the first I knew it even existed was when I got my Hogwarts letter." He watched her eyes grow wider and wider in horror as he explained exactly why he needed instruction at this late date. "My grandparents' portrait will be teaching me about the House of Potter and my duties there, and my solicitor is arranging a tutor for general finance and estate management. I need you to teach me everything you can about etiquette as it relates to the House of Black. I'll be asking Arcturus' portrait to teach me the history of the Blacks and my duties as Head of this House. And finally, there will be no screaming at any visitors, not even if they're utter Muggles. Do you intend to abide by these conditions?"
To his surprise, she dropped a curtsey and said formally, "It shall be as you command, my lord. As ever, I serve the House of Black."
A few moments later, the portrait had been stuck back up on the wall.
"When can Kreacher expect Master back?" the old elf wanted to know.
"Probably sometime tomorrow. I'd like a complete tour of the house then; there were too many rooms that were locked, or that I wasn't allowed in last year. I'd also like to see the cellar and the attic at that time." He grinned at Kreacher's crestfallen look. "Don't worry if those areas haven't been cleaned yet. Do I need to worry about cursed objects?"
"There are still many dangerous heirlooms here, Master."
"Why don't you gather them all in one place—but only if you can do it safely. Tell me where they are tomorrow, so I can avoid them until I can have a curse-breaker take a look at them."
"Yes, Master."
At that moment, he heard a bell tinkle. "What is that?"
"Mail owl, Master. Kreacher will get it." He was back a moment later. "Letter is safe, Master," he said, handing Harry an envelope. "Owl is waiting for a reply."
"Thanks," Harry said, and opened it where he stood. It was from his solicitor.
I have taken the liberty of arranging an appointment for you at my office for ten o'clock tomorrow morning, for the purpose of discussing a press release regarding your assumption of your lordships. The circumstances surrounding the events of yesterday make this more than a routine announcement.
The Floo address was included at the end of the letter.
In the study, he found parchment, ink, and a quill and dashed off a reply, then sealed it and handed it to Kreacher. When the elf returned, Harry told him, "I have an appointment with my solicitor tomorrow morning; I don't know how long it's likely to take. I'll send word with Tolly or Dobby as soon as I know." He smiled as he looked around the room, just as scrubbed as the rest of the house that Harry had seen so far. "Good work on the house, Kreacher. Go get some rest; you've earned it."
Was that a smile he saw on the elf's face?
.
The matronly receptionist smiled at Harry as he picked himself up after stumbling out of the Floo. "Muggleborn?" she asked kindly.
"Muggle-raised," he answered.
"There's a slight trick to Floo travel. Stand with your right foot a little forward, like this." She demonstrated. "It stops the spin and helps keep you from falling over."
"Thanks."
"It'll take a bit of practice, but before you know it, you'll be handling it like a pro. Now, do you have an appointment today?"
"Yes; I'm supposed to see Mr. Walsh at ten."
She checked a book. "Right this way, Mr. Potter." She led him into a conference room. "Mr. Walsh will be with you shortly; would you like anything to drink while you're waiting?"
"Just some water will be fine."
Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a tumbler of cold water appeared before him, along with a pitcher with more in it.
A few minutes later, Ben Walsh came in; Harry rose, and they shook hands. "Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you today?"
"I'm fine, thanks. What's this about a press release?"
"It's customary, when the Heir of a Most Ancient House takes up his lordship, for an announcement to be printed in the society pages. Normally, that's something I could handle without involving you at all, except to approve the notice before I send it to the paper. However, the fact that you've replaced the defunct Gaunt Family as the only living descendant of Salazar Slytherin is newsworthy all by itself; then the Goblins contacted me and informed me that a large number of Heirs came into their inheritances, all of them the offspring of Death Eaters."
Harry nodded. "Professor Dumbledore hinted that the rest of the Death Eaters were affected as well, when I spoke to him yesterday evening. But how?"
"They told me the Dark Mark linked them all to him; he probably tried to draw their magic to save himself, and ended up killing all of them himself. One or two may have survived, if they were not in the room with him at the time; the greater the distance involved, the better their odds of survival.
"Now, given the smear campaign the Prophet ran—I'm guessing, at the Ministry's orders…" At Harry's confirmatory nod he continued, "I think it's best if you break the news yourself before the Ministry can put out their version."
"So long as Rita Skeeter has nothing whatsoever to do with it, and whoever handles it is not allowed to use a Quik-Quotes Quill."
"I think we can manage both. Now here's my rough draft; let's get to work fleshing it out a bit and polishing it up."
.
The Order of the Phoenix met in a room at the Hog's Head. Dumbledore was deeply upset as he announced the death of Voldemort. The group started to erupt in cheers, but he quelled the nascent celebration. "I'm concerned about the effect it has had on Harry. Yesterday, he went to Gringotts and got his full inheritance."
"But he isn't of age yet!" Molly protested.
"Sirius emancipated him in his Will. As a result, he was able to claim his lordships. He told me he learned that, in addition to the Potter and Black estates, he was able to claim the Slytherin lordship, not only by conquest, but by blood. He then disowned Voldemort by ritual declaration. This caused Voldemort to lose his magic. He apparently tried to draw on the magic of his marked followers. Severus survived, though he is currently under Madam Pomfrey's care for magical exhaustion. His Dark Mark is completely gone."
Bill Weasley had to struggle to keep from laughing. He had met with Harry late that afternoon to discuss cleansing a number of Dark artifacts at the Black townhouse. In the course of their discussion, Harry had told him his side of the story. While Dumbledore's version agreed at all the important points, what Dumbledore wasn't saying would fill a book.
The old headmaster had more to say. "From the way he summarily threw me out of Grimmauld Place, I'm afraid all that power has gone to his head, and he may well be going dark on us."
Under cover of the bedlam that erupted at that statement, Bill allowed himself a derisive snort.
Moody's voice cut through the cacophony as he said, "I don't believe that for one minute! The lad just did what he had to do, quick and clean. He probably saved all our lives!"
At the same time, Minerva's thickening brogue demanded, "What did ye expect, when the puir bairn's not had an ounce o' love shown him? I told ye those Dursleys were the worst sort o' Muggles!"
"Is that an acceptable reason for the wanton murder—"
"Oh, come off it!" Bill interrupted, slamming his hands on the table. That remark was the last straw. "You're telling us he's going dark just because he didn't do it your way? Get a clue, Dumbledore! The sun doesn't rise and set when you stand up and sit down!"
Molly gasped. "William Arthur Weasley! How dare you!"
Bill looked at her in disgust. "Grow up, Mum," he said. "Can't you see he's been manipulating that kid since the day he was born? It's about bloody time he kicked himself free." Turning back to Dumbledore, he said, "Face it, old man: Your puppet has cut his strings; your pawn has made it all the way across the board and is now a queen."
Anything else he might have said was cut off by the arrival of several owls with a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Silence fell over the room as those who subscribed began to read, with those who didn't have their own subscriptions looking over their shoulders. No one noticed the color draining from Dumbledore's face as his web of power disintegrated before his eyes.
You-Know-Who Defeated!
Boy Who Lived now Lord Who Conquered!
Death of Dark Lord Confirmed by Gringotts
In an interview with Lord Potter-Black-Slytherin, we were told in some detail how this came about. It began when Harry Potter finally managed to locate his ancestral manor. He arrived with only his grandparents' portrait to greet him; in the course of their conversation, they instructed him to speak to his account manager at Gringotts. There he discovered his magical heritage, a heritage that had been kept from him by his magical guardian…
It went on to recount how a simple declaration had destroyed the worst Dark Lord since Grindelwald, without a single mention of Dumbledore. As first one, then another of the Order Members gathered belongings and walked out, Bill threw back his head and laughed.
The end…AKA:
Lascivia Capessita
(Mischief Managed)
A/N: To answer the question I know full well is coming, there may or may not be a sequel. I know there's a lot in Harry's future, now that his personal albatross is off his back for good, and I do have a few ideas, but they're refusing to come together at the moment. IF there is a sequel, it will be a while before I get it posted, because I will not post a story before I complete it. Yes, for those of you who haven't read any of my other works, that is my pledge to my readers. I've seen too many stories abandoned here; additionally, I'm well aware of the fact that my own muse has this nasty tendency to disappear, sometimes even for years at a time. I refuse to subject my readers to that.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
-Jake
