Disclaimer: I own the plot, Flickaxe the Goblin, a couple of minor unrecognizable characters, and all of the house elves other than Dobby, Winky and Kreacher. JKR owns everything else. Dammit!
Chapter 7
Let the Games Begin!
Gringotts Bank
The Next Day
Harry and Flickaxe were having tea and scones the next morning while waiting for Aberforth and Violet Dumbledore. At least Harry was having tea and scones, Flickaxe was having some unidentifiable pieces of dried meat and washing them down with a smoking brew. Harry had no interest in what the goblin could possibly be consuming, something told him that he didn't really want to know. He figured that if he ever had a goblin as a guest, the house elves would be familiar with goblin cuisine.
Harry had asked Flickaxe about the fact that Violet Dumbledore carried her maiden name rather than her late husband's. It turned out that her husband had been a secret Death Eater during Voldemort's first reign of terror, and when Harry had destroyed Voldemort's body, Violet's husband had gone into hiding, never to be seen again. As the Head of the family, Albus Dumbledore had annulled their marriage and restored the Dumbledore name to Violet and her children. The two children were Jonathon, now aged 18, and Jessica, who was born just 6 months after Voldemort's disappearance. To protect the children from any attacks by Riddle's followers, he had sent the children to Canada for their schooling.
There was a knock on the door and Griphook stuck his head in. "Mr. and Miss Dumbledore are here for their appointment."
"Send them in."
The Dumbledore's had not been informed of the purpose of the meeting, but then again, neither had Flickaxe. He only knew that the wealthiest customer they had wanted to speak with a couple of people in perfect privacy, and that it had something to do with the bank. This was enough to insure that his wishes would be carried out. With that kind of money, had Harry wanted to kill the Dumbledores, the goblins would have cleaned up the mess with no one the wiser. Aberforth stiffened when he saw Harry.
"What the hell is he doing here?"
"Lord Potter-Black is the one who asked for this meeting."
Harry stood. "I have some items to return to you." He walked over to Violet and handed her the deed for her house, then reached in his pocket and handed Aberforth the family signet ring. He then turned to Flickaxe and, fishing the key to the Dumbledore vault out of another pocket, handed him the key. "I want the vault and all of it's contents returned to the Dumbledore family control."
To say that Aberforth and Violet were shocked would have been an understatement. However the surprise they felt was nothing compared to the shock that went through Flickaxe. "Lord Potter-Black! Have you considered the ramifications of this action? You will no longer be the wealthiest wizard, only the second wealthiest. You are also handing back power to possible enemies and the wealth to carry out revenge."
Harry fixed him with a glare. "Flickaxe, it was mine to dispose of as I see fit. This is the way that I see fit." Turning to Aberforth, Harry softened. "I never meant for Albus to go to prison, but I had to stop him from interfering in my life and finances anymore. He caused great harm to my family and myself. He stole my mother's and my heritage and forced us to grow up in muggle households. He stole money and family heirlooms from me and subjected me to fourteen years of abuse and neglect."
"He tried to keep you safe and help you!"
"No, he tried to manipulate me and make me into a weapon for his own purposes. Do you realize that my childhood was not much different from Voldemort's? I could have turned out exactly like Voldemort?"
"I don't see a whole hell of a lot of difference. You-know-who hated my brother, and all Albus ever tried to do with him was guide him."
Harry reached in the bottomless tote bag and pulled out a series of journals. "I didn't think that you would take me at my word, so here is Albus' own words. I have marked the appropriate pages and passages for you to see for yourself. I got these out of the vault yesterday, they had been removed from his office after the trial. Read for yourself his actions and motivations. The only other thing that I have removed from the vault are photos of my family and Sirius. Those are valuable to me, and you have no use for them. Flickaxe, please take the Dumbledores someplace where they can read Albus' journals in privacy. I need to go to my vault and collect some items to take home."
"The Dumbledores can use my office for the next two hours if they like. I have a board meeting that requires my presence. Mr. Dumbledore, when you and Miss Dumbledore are ready to leave, just summon Griphook and he will escort you either to your vault or to the foyer." With that, Harry and Flickaxe left the office.
Two Hours Later
"Do you believe this flobberworm crap?" Aberforth asked Violet as they closed the last of the journals.
"Of course not. He must have tampered with them somehow. Uncle Albus could have never done the things that are in these books. I would bet that the goblins somehow have a hand in this. I knew there was a reason that Albus never trusted those sharp toothed creatures."
"So what do we do about it?"
"Simple. Pretend that we do believe it, then work our way in close to Potter. Become his best friends, show proper shame that Albus would betray us so." Seeing her grandfather's face reddening, she quickly went on. "Look, as much as we hate the idea, we need to realize that there is no way that we are going to get Uncle Albus out of prison in the amount of time that he has to live. The best that we can hope for is to rehabilitate his reputation and get the other 16 life sentences and the other parts of the sentence lifted. We need to have a presence in the Wizengamot to remind this country what they owe Albus Dumbledore for the defeat of the Dark Lord Grindlewald in the last war. We need to remind all of the Light families that Harry Potter-Black is not really one of us. But we do it from a position of an ally, not an enemy. If we do that, we will be more believable. There is always the possibility that Potter will die when he meets You-Know-Who. And if he does, we just blame it all on the dead guy. All while shedding the appropriate amount of tears, of course."
Aberforth looked at his granddaughter with new respect. "Damn. It is fortunate that you went to school in Switzerland. The Hat would have sorted you into Slytherin for sure."
"Grandpa, that is exactly why I went to Switzerland. Uncle Albus had me try on the hat about six months prior to when I would have started Hogwarts. When the Hat said that I would have been in Slytherin, he bundled me up and shipped me off to the Alps."
With that, they summoned Griphook and left.
Looking through an invisible window into his office, Flickaxe checked over the transcript of the conversation between the Dumbledores that his auto-quill had made. With goblin patience, he had watched and listened the entire time that the pair had been in the office. Casting a spell on his own head, he held up a vial and allowed the memory of the conversation to fill it. He capped the vial, put it with the transcript and pondered what he should do with it. He decided to put it in the bank's memory vault. Who knew when it could come in handy.
12 Grimmauld Place
"My Lord, I am so happy to see you! It seems like forever since you left to go to the Manor House. Have the elves finished cleaning the place up? And how are your house-muggles coming along?" Mrs. Black's portrait was actually bubbling with excitement.
"Lady Black," Harry greeted the portrait with a slight bow, upon which she actually blushed. "The elves have done a wonderful job, Kreacher is to be commended for his choices in hiring. The house-muggles on the other hand have been a real disappointment. Blinky was able to teach them some manners, but they were too high maintenance, so I had to give them clothes. I did have their memories erased however and gave them a death vow should they ever cross me again."
"Kreacher said that you had made them gardeners, you should have made them butlers or something."
"And deny a perfectly good house elf of an honorable position? Besides, these two were too crude to have that good of a position."
"There is that… well, win some, lose some. At least you did not have a lot of money invested in them."
"Lady Black, I noticed another portrait of you standing with your husband in the manor house."
"Oh, my! I had forgotten that I was there. How am I? And how is Orion?"
"You don't know? I thought that you could travel between your portraits."
"Only if they were painted at the same time as part of a set. You have noticed that when Phineas is in Hogwarts that his canvas is blank here?" Harry nodded. "The painting at the manor house was painted the week that we got back from our honeymoon. In fact, it is the only portrait that Orion would ever allow to be painted of himself. He said that he didn't want to be remembered as some old pruneface." There was a tear leaking from Mrs. Black's portrait. I would love to visit him/me, but I look so, so,… old. He probably would not give me the time of day. We were so carefree back then. Orion and myself became, oh, I guess you would say, harder. As much as I loved growing older with him, I must say that I miss those days. Did you know that Orion was a Quiddich player when he went to Hogwarts? He was the Slytherin seeker."
"He did mention that. He kidded me quite a bit when I told him that I was a seeker for Gryffindor. It seems that the House rivalries were not quite so vicious back then."
"Oh, the rivalries and distrust of each other was there, but somehow the Quiddich players seemed to separate that from their love of the game. They played hard, win or lose, then congratulated the other team. I would love to be able to watch one of his Quiddich games again. Or at least go flying with Orion."
"Hmm. I wonder…" Harry had an idea that would make things much more pleasant around this house, if it would work. He had gotten very attached to the young Mr. and Mrs. Black during his time at the manor. Sure, they had their prejudices, but they were not nearly as virulent as they had been in later life after the rise of Voldemort. The young Mrs. Black had not only been charming, but had also been very easy on the eyes. Some people just did not age well.
"I have something to check into. I bid you good-day, Lady Black." Harry gave another short bow, then went into his study and called Kreacher.
"Yes, My Lord? How can Kreacher serve you?"
"I would like to find out about a gift for your Mistress, Lady Black."
Kreacher was surprised. He was totally dedicated to his mistress, she was his first owner and would always be first in his heart. He wiggled with excitement. "How can Lord Black give Mistress' portrait a gift?"
"You know how much she loved Orion and how much she misses him?"
Kreacher's face fell. "Kreacher knows that Mistress pines for Master Black."
"Well, I want to try something….."
Diagon Alley
Harry had inquired at Gringotts as to the finest portrait painter in the magical world. The goblins, assuming he wanted his own portrait painted, recommended Andrew Baucus, painter extraordinaire. Now Harry was sitting in his studio. He detailed what he wanted and the painter said he thought he could do the job. He had never done anything quite like this, but there was precedent. Baucus gathered some paints and equipment, a reference book, and an easel, then appearated with Harry to the Manor.
Harry explained to the portraits of the young Mr. and Mrs. Black what he wanted to do, and they agreed. In fact, Orion was really enthused about the experiment, he missed Grimmauld Place. Baucus set up his easel and began to work. Two hours later, there was a canvas on the easel which depicted the Quiddich pitch at Hogwarts. The stands were filled with people from all houses, but they had no real personality other than the fact that they were rooting for the teams. The two teams were the surprise though. Each was complete with chasers and beaters, but both seeker positions were empty. Both teams were Slytherin, with one team wearing green robes trimmed in silver and the other wearing silver robes with green trim. Lying on the ground in the middle of the pitch were two empty robes and two broomsticks. Baucus had painted all of the player's brooms to be state of the art Firebolts (he used Harry's s a model) and programmed the players to play different historical games between professional teams. He programmed over 100 various games into the teams, then told Harry how to program later games. Baucus then painted every single room into a different picture as a floor plan, then went outside to paint the exterior of the manor around the rooms, enclosing them.
The next part was the trickiest. Baucus took his wand, and holding it against the Black's portrait, made a magical copy of the picture, duplicating the magical signatures. This copied the personalities of the portraits onto a gossamer magical web. He picked up the painting of the Manor and his blank canvas, then Harry and Baucus appearated to Grimmauld Place. Appearing in the Foyer, Harry greeted Mrs. Black and introduced the painter.
"Lady Black, I would like to, with your permission, grant you a gift." Seeing her inerest perk, Harry went on. "I would like to reunite you, in your younger body, with Orion."
She gasped. "But My Lord, how is that possible?" Harry explained the procedure. "Andrew here has copied the magical signature and essence of yours and Orion's portrait. He can place it in your portrait here, Orion would be copied here and you would once again become youthful."
"Would I forget everything?"
"No, but the painful things would fade and you would become that carefree girl again. You would retain your memories of getting older, but they would fade and become as a background thought unless you decided that you wanted to access them. As an added bonus, when he finishes, your other selves will be able to visit each other. There will be a painting of the manor that you can access here, and they will have one of this house."
"Are you sure that it will work?"
Andrew spoke up. I am reasonably certain, the spells usually work the other way, with wizards updating their previous portraits, but so far the paints have gone on easily and the magic is flowing well."
With an excited giggle, (she already seemed to drop a few years of hard living) Mrs. Black gave her acquiescence. Baucus got to work. He transferred the gossamer web onto the portrait, then spelled it to overlay the existing image and integrate itself. The face and body of Mrs. Black grew increasingly younger, then stopped at the age of the Manor house's portrait. Orion Black woke up, stretched, then looked at his companion.
"Darling! Is it really you?" Mrs. Black giggled.
"As much me as a portrait can get." Orion said. They turned to Harry. "My Lord, how can we thank you?"
"Enjoy yourselves. You have a lot of catching up to do. Andrew is going to spell the manor painting to allow you in, then he is going to paint this house and take it back to the Manor. When you wish to visit your other selves, just walk through the door in back of you and you will appear in the manor portrait. Your counterparts can do the same thing there to arrive here. There is also another picture that you will enjoy. After he finishes with the house painting, he will be painting two portraits of me, one for each house. That way when I pass on, it will be part of the same series of paintings and I will be able to join you."
"Why would you want to be painted now?" asked Orion.
"Because there is a very good chance that I will not be alive at an old age. If I am, then there will be portraits of both ages, but they will be confined to one place since they will not be in the same series. I have to face the False Lord and only one of us can survive, possibly neither. I have accepted this, but if I can take him out, even if I die in the process, I will still have won. I will need to escort Andrew around the house so that he can paint every room, so I will be gone quite a while. I will meet you at the Manor."
A few hours later, the weary Andrew and Harry appearated to the Manor with the painting of Grimmauld Place held between them. They came in the middle of a rough and tumble Quiddich match being played out to an enthusiastic audience of elves. The two Orions were each in a Slytherin uniform playing seeker against each other in the Pitch painting. Their wives were in the stands rooting for them. Harry couldn't tell them apart, and wondered if their husbands could. This brought up some very disturbing thoughts, but Harry decided to ponder that philosophical question later. The house elves were shouting, throwing popcorn at the portrait and laying bets on which team would win the game. Most of them were also very drunk on butterbeer. It made for quite a rowdy crowd.
When the green robed Orion caught the snitch while flying inverted, there were cheers, groans, and money began changing hands between the elves. The teams landed, shook hands all around, then flew off, leaving the two Black pairs in the painting. They came up to the forefront and waved to Harry.
"This is bloody brilliant!" one of the Orions gushed. Harry could not tell which. "I can hardly wait until we can get your Gryffindor carcass in here and play you."
"I just hope that it is not too soon," interjected the other. "I mean, you would have to die first, and we can wait until you are an oldster. Time has no meaning for us here."
"It was a great game," said Harry, "But I think that I'm going to have to talk with the elves. I'm glad they had a good time, but I think that it should be restricted to a schedule. Otherwise they would become a bunch of lushes and couch potatoes. Maybe on weekends they could watch the matches. That way they will have some time to sober up. As it is, the whole staff of both houses are going to be feeling the butterbeer hangovers in the morning. Besides, it is a sneaky way to enforce some days off for them, maybe relax them a bit."
"Have Kreacher talk to the staff in the morning, My Lord," said one of the Mrs. Blacks. Harry thought it might be the Grimmauld Place Lady. She did seem just a bit more reserved and mature than the other, although not by much. "He can do it after he wakes up and shakes off his hangover." She giggled. So much for mature. Harry enjoyed having the Blacks this way, carefree and young. That older Mrs. Black was a horrible fate to look forward to. Now she wouldn't have to.
Harry patted himself on the back for a job well done and headed up to bed, wondering if there would be at least one elf sober enough in the morning to fix breakfast.
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I have decided who my Light pairing should be, but who should be the Dark witch who will complete the Potter-Black poly-marriage? PM me on this one, I don't want to give the winning witch away. Make it an existing character from canon please. Or at least from an existing Dark family.
Hamilton.