"Dear Harry,
How was your date? Mum and Dad need to get back to England at the end of the week, and I had planned to go with them, but Fleur has invited me to stay with them. It seems that the French have the same system of internships, and Apolline has invited me to study charms with her. She is a charms mistress and considered one of the best in France. It's a great chance for me, as in Britain muggle-born usually are not really accepted as interns. So if you don't need me urgently in the next month, I would stay here. Fleur and Gabrielle are doing their best to convince me.
Yourmione."
Tonks chuckled when Harry showed her the letter. "Catch 22. You'll be crucified if you beg her to come home and hanged if you don't."
Harry looked at her with pleading eyes.
"All right, buster. Do you want something from Hermione? The letter is tantamount to putting herself undressed in your bed. She wants something from you."
That was a topic that Harry did not really want to get into. "I'm not sure?"
"How can you be not sure?"
"My dear Myminoe,
As you know, I am a boy, and as such, clueless. Luckily, I have a friend who helps me think (I couldn't really outsource my brains to you in this instance, like I usually do). So. You know how I grew up. I had Tonks translate your letter to me, and I think you deserve the honest answer. As a boy, I am always looking at girls, and believe me, I have known for quite some time now that you are one of that species. Not a normal one, but an extraordinary one. Maybe even the best in the market. I have spent quite a few evenings thinking of you, if you catch the meaning of that. And yes, I can imagine having quite a few little Harrys and Hermiones running around my house in ten or twenty years. You know that I would be not half the man I am without you.
However, I would really, really prefer another go against Voldemort than treating you wrong. And I have absolutely no idea how I should treat you right.
So basically, what I want to say is that you should take the chance to do this internship. I will be waiting for you either in Diagon Alley or at latest on the Hogwarts express. Then, we will hopefully find a chance to go on.
However, I need to point out that I will go to the Greengrass ball with Ernestina. She is a good friend and a sweet girl. I think we need to decide on how we two go on next year on the train, but I will continue to meet her much this summer.
Your Harry
P.S. Would you mind taking this letter to my very best friend Hermione? She knows what I mean, even if I can't really express myself all that well and will explain me to you."
"Dear Harry,
There is one easy question in your letter. Actually, I am not as amazed as I should be that you have to ask it. Basically, the oldest living winner of the triwizard tournament (this being you) is the one who decides when and how the next tournament will take place. Usually, it will be hosted by his school, and he, with the input of all surviving TW-contestants (the complete number being Victor and me) will decide on the rules of the game. It would be appropriate to meet with us this summer and to have a tournament at latest next year.
Now, to the more difficult questions. You know that Hermione wants a little bit more than friendship from you, I would guess. No boy could be so thick not to see that. As Hermione is my friend, I am legally disbarred from assisting you with another girl... Still, you are a Triwizard Champion, and thus your behaviour reflects on me. So, I will help you with the social questions and leave out anything that might woe the girl. Basically, you will need to behave in a very formal manner. You will of course wear dress robes – and of better quality than the ones you did at the Jule Ball. They were adequate for a child, but now that you are a young man, you need something better. Black silk should be good. A formal hat would be good, too. Maybe your friend can help you there. If not, shop at Gladrags. Do not shop at Madam Malkins. A robe from her signifies that you feel inferior. Now, as Triwizard Champion, you rank every male student, as long as he is no Head of a Ancient and Noble House, in which case, he would rank you. You also rank any ministry personal below the position of Department Head. So, you meet a male of these groups that you know and you want to talk to him or acknowledge him, you bow slightly. He will bow back, and if you want to talk to him, you would place your hand to your chin. In a social setting, every girl ranks you, so they decide if they know you. If they want to greet you, they will either catch your eye or – if they are younger – might curtsy slightly. You may then bow to them. Again, a short hand to the chin would signal that you should approach them. Same goes for older people, Heads and Heirs of ancient and noble Houses and of course your hosts. If you don't know somebody, you will not approach them. You must wait till someone introduces you. In that case, you bow rather deeply before a lady, a bit more slightly before a man. The higher rank decides on the topic of the talk and if or not to shake hands. Usually, you should not talk for longer than two or three minutes. Acceptable topics are the weather, which is splendid even if it is raining cats and dogs, your health, which is excellent, thank you, the dresses of the ladies, which are somewhere between stunning and beautiful, and the party, which is great and you are happy to be there. You will not talk about Voldemort, corruption of the ministry, last year's battle or Death Eaters. Only your hosts or persons of high social standing (Wizengamot members, the minister or your hosts) may decide it's time to talk politics. Usually it will be done in a back room in small groups. You will not try to kill any Death Eaters you might encounter there, and they will not try to harm you. Though it might be better to keep half an eye on them.
Now, as you have a date, you will dance at least two out of three dances with her. Every third dance can be danced with someone else. If you don't want to make her look bad, you will only dance with her female relatives, women at least 10 years older than you or girls she asks you to dance with. I hope I do not need to mention that you will compliment her on her dress. It is your job to get refreshments in the breaks between the dances. Usually, footmen or house elves will be present. Just motion to them. You will bring her a small bouquet, preferably of rose or cream roses. Do not use red roses if you don't want to ask her to marry you.
Likely, around 10, you will be asked to step into a back room, where you will meet with others, while your date will go and gossip with her friends. This will last for about one hour, then you will be dancing again. If you step out with her into the garden after dark, she will expect to be kissed. On the terrace, or before 10, you will be safe.
Ha, and you thought you were just going dancing? By the way, Papa will invite you to our summer ball, and you will have the honour of being Hermione's date. If you don't want to, Gabrielle will take over.
All the best,
Your friend Fleur"
Harry shook his head. It had all seemed so easy! And now he had to remember to whom to bow? How the hell did one bow, anyway?
"Dear Ernestina,
My advisor has told me to get some good robes for your ball. Do you have any idea where I can get some adequate clothing? Should I go to Gladrags? And to what colour should my robes fit? You will guide me through the faux-pas I will certainly find, will you?
Yours quite anxiously,
Harry."
"Dear Fleur,
Thank you very much for your advice. And I would love to come to your family's ball, especially if Hermione can be my date. For this purpose, is Gabrielle a family member of Hermione? I am sure that she will want to dance with me.
Your information about the Triwizard Tournament has shocked me. Why does nobody (beautiful females now in Southern France excepted, of course) ever explain anything to me?
"Harry,
The world greatest prat has done it again. Let me just say I am sorry. I told you about Sirius' last will and the fact that the twins were holding it safe for you. The envelope said "to my heir". I decided this morning to send it to you, because I thought that if you want to hang around the old families, you might like the clout of being Head of an Ancient and Noble House. Now, there is no easy way to put it: You are not Sirius' heir. When I took the envelope, it opened. According to it, I am the new Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. There was a letter in it for you, and I have attached it to this letter. If you want to break contact with me after this, I will certainly understand. I must however reiterate that I did not want to steal your inheritance. I am more sorry than I could ever express.
Yours hopefully,
Ronald Billius Black, esq."
"Harry,
You receiving this letter means that I have died. Most likely I drank myself to death. Hopefully, I died in a somewhat more meaningful way than I have lived. I would not bet on it, though. Now, you might wonder why you did not receive my last will, but only this puny letter. The basic reason is that I have nothing at all I can bequeath to you. As Head of the House Black, all my properties are part of the family's estate. And this estate can – if no male pureblood Black is alive – only be passed on to a pureblood male of good standing. This means some younger son of the old pureblood families. There were only three such available that I know even a bit, Ron, Fred and George. Charlie, being employed in a foreign country, is not eligible. As I did not want the twins to inherit my estate, I have chosen your friend Ron. I know that he has been a prat more often than not. I know that he is far from an ideal Head of a Ancient and Noble House, but I hope he might mature into something like that. And no, he cannot give you lavish presents. For one thing, my House is not as rich as it pretended to be in former times. There is enough money in our coffers for Ron and Ginny to finish their schooling, and for Ron to live his life in some style, but not more. And family law forbids him to give money to halfbloods. I am sorry that I have let you down so much in your life. Please do not blame Ron, he has neither asked for nor known about this.
Love, Sirius."
Harry's stomach had clenched when he had read Ron's letter, and after reading Sirius', he felt all the pain that his therapist and Tonks had done their best to fight wash over him in a wave. He did not know what to feel. He had been certain that he would be Sirius' heir. Not so much because of any money or even damn old Grimmauld, but for the symbolism. Or else, it would have been some enemy, like Draco, who was some kind of nephew to Sirius after all. Someone he could hate for taking away what was his. But this was Ron. A prat at times, obviously. But along with Hermione also the only real friend he had ever had until the start of the DA. The one who had broken him out of the Dursleys in the summer after first year. The one who had battled his fear of spiders to go and meet acromantulas. He could not hate Ron for taking this. No, not even for taking it, but for being forced to take it.
"Ron,
I don't really know what to say right now. However, I think I don't blame you. More after I have had time to think about that.
Your friend Harry."