A/N: You will find that most of the scene with Dumbledore at the Dursley's is from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I used direct quotes when Dumbledore is speaking to Harry about Sirius' will. Other than that, Enjoy.
CHAPTER FIVE
Harry made his way back down into Knockturn Alley for the second time that day with his hood pulled up and Voldemort by his side. The man hadn't said a word since they had left Private Drive and Harry had to squash the need to ask the man about what was going on inside his head. He had told himself he would let whatever it was Voldemort was thinking about be, give him some time. But at the same time Harry desperately wanted to know.
Thankfully his appointment with Lady Parkinson was distracting him. Harry entered the pub; the charmed handle gave way and allowed him entrance to the place. Inside was much different than he had been expecting. The place was quaint and cleaner than the Leaky Cauldron, only instead of the friendly aura the previous pub held Moribund's place gave off an air of danger. There were three very pale men in the corner drinking from crystal goblets holding a red drink so dark it was almost black. The blonde man with blue eyes that seemed to glow flashed him a bloody smile revealing two razor sharp fangs and Harry realized they were vampires. He didn't look at them long, instead Harry turned his vision to the counter where the same blue eyes he had met earlier were watching him.
So with his lips curled in a sneer and his eyes hardened into a glare Harry made his way to the counter. "I'm rented a room for four o'clock." He drawled icily, a little icier than he had meant to actually. But Moribund didn't seemed phased and handed him a key with the number three engraved.
"Upstairs second door on the left." Moribund responded and dropped the key on the counter. Harry grabbed the key and tried to ignore the man's stare as he climbed the stairs. The room was nice enough, with a large fireplace with a fire already building and a house elf pouring wine into the crystal goblets. Two large deep green plush chairs were on either side of the fire place with a coffee table in between them. A plush black couch was at the end of the table facing the fire and on the opposite wall to Harry's left was a small bar. Up ahead were a small set of long stairs that lead to a bedroom. Harry checked his watch and found he was ten minutes early and with Voldemort still not talking Harry decided to sit in the chair to the left of the fire and took a sip of the fruity wine.
About five minutes of tense silence followed before the door opened and a woman who looked about thirty walked in. Her black hair was done up in an elegant style and her rosy robes went well with her tanned skin. "Ah, Mr. Potter. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."
"Use proper titles, Harry. She's testing you." Voldemort warned and Harry smiled.
"Not at all Lady Parkinson, I've only just arrived myself." Parkinson flashed a pearly white smile and unclasped her cloak; the house elf at her feet quickly hung it on the rack.
"Please sit, Lady Parkinson. Would you like some wine?" If she was at all curious why Harry had asked to meet with her she let nothing on. Instead she inclined her head and sat primly on the edge of her chair, crossing her legs. Harry handed her the other goblet and sat back down.
"Ask her how her daughter is doing, Harry."
Harry gulped and smiled at Lady Parkinson, "So how is Pansy doing? Is she enjoying her summer?" Personally Harry thought Pansy was annoying and clingy when it came to Draco but he pushed those thoughts aside. Voldemort wanted this and if he were to be honest it was a great plan.
"Oh you know my Pansy?" Lady Parkinson smiled brightly. "Well she went off to France for a few weeks to visit her Aunt. Apparently she bumped into Draco Malfoy who was visiting his grandmother and has been spending quite a bit of time with him." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise; he hadn't known Draco had relatives in France. Lady Parkinson leaned forward and broke Harry from his thoughts, "But that's not why you invited me here is it? To ask after my daughter?"
Harry very nearly blushed at the implications and shook his head, "Erm, no it wasn't. You see I have a bit of a problem." Harry waved his hand towards his person and Lady Parkinson's lips curled into a sneer when Harry motioned to his clothes. "I have noticed that Madam Malkin's is very plebian and of course I have no desire to be left with these muggle clothes." Harry sneered the word muggle and Lady Parkinson's eyebrows rose into her hairline.
"Very well done Harry, now bait her with a compliment." Voldemort whispered as he sat on the arm rest of Harry's chair.
"I have heard the girls in Hogwarts compliment your work and I thought who better to go to than the trend setter herself."
Lady Parkinson sipped her wine slowly, eyeing him as if trying to find deceit in his words. Apparently she found nothing because she set her goblet down and said, "I do not do mere school robes."
Harry smirked and nodded, "Of course not. You see I was raised in the muggle world so I am not quite sure what all a Wizarding wardrobe consists of, but I need an entire extensive one. Down to the undergarments and accessories."
Parkinson's eyes lit up like Harry had just made Christmas come early, "I would need at least ten thousand to have you looking like a proper heir to an Ancient and Noble house."
Voldemort leaned in, "Have Gringotts draw up the contract."
Harry nodded, "That's fine we can have Gringotts draw up a contract."
"Well then, let us begin shall we?" Lady Parkinson stood and untied the small purse from her waist and Harry watched fascinated as she flicked her wand and a tape measure and quick quotes quill along with a pad of parchment much too big to fit in the small bag zoomed out.
"It's an undetectable expansion charm," Voldemort supplied and Harry nodded.
"Now I'll need you down to your barest, so that I can get proper measurements." At this Harry hesitated. He had scars that littered his small frame and he wasn't exactly keen on showing them off to a woman he knew would gossip this entire meeting to others.
Before Harry could protest Lady Parkinson flicked her wand and suddenly he was left in his boxers, his clothes piled neatly on the chair he had just been sitting in. "Oh," Harry felt extremely embarrassed as her dark brown eyes took in his frame and he felt like jumping behind the chair. "Oh dear." She seemed as lost for words as Harry was but he was extremely glad she asked no questions. She seemed to think the best course of action was to get down to business and pretend she hadn't seen anything at all.
"Shh," Voldemort cooed to Harry as his lips briefly touched Harry's shoulder. "Do not be ashamed of your scars. They are reminders of what you have survived, how strong you are."
But the questions burning in Lady Parkinson's eyes as she raised his arm left Harry feeling out of sorts. The large purplish splotch on his forearm and the deep black veins from the venom of the Basilisk created a tense atmosphere but when she went to measure his torso and found the large red stripes she couldn't hold back the gasp. "Mr. Potter-" she broke off, obviously at a loss for words.
"Are we done?" He asked rather harshly and when she nodded Harry wasted no time putting Dudley's hand-me-downs back on.
"Thank you for agreeing to this," Harry said stiffly before he turned for the door.
"Mr. Potter wait-" Harry reluctantly stopped and turned around.
Lady Parkinson was paler than death as she reached once more in her bag, her whole arm disappearing inside it for a moment before she withdrew a wallet of some kind. "Here," she said handing him a card that she pulled from it. "This- this is address for- for Lord Greengrass. He's an attorney that could help you file for emancipation."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, it was cold and cruel and even to his own ears rather frightening. He gave Lady Parkinson an evil smirk and said, "Don't worry Lady Parkinson, I've planned my own emancipation." Her face became impossibly paler and Harry turned, opened the door, and left.
The next day found Harry lounging on his bed as Petunia cooked a large meal downstairs and Dudley repainted the shed. He was going through his old textbooks, brushing up on material that he had not cared about before, and Voldemort was sitting beside him, running his fingers through Harry's hair and answering questions whenever needed. It hadn't taken long to go back through four years of texts, but Harry was struggling with some of the fifth year material, actually only one particular thing.
"It makes no sense," Harry growled and shoved the offending text away. "One of Gamp's Laws is that you cannot create something from nothing. Isn't that exactly what this is doing?"
Harry slammed his head down into the mattress and let out a heavy sigh as Voldemort ran a hand through his hair. "No, think about it Harry. You are not creating something you are conjuring them. You remember that serpent that Draco conjured in his second year, where the entire school learned of your parseltongue abilities?"
"How could I forget?" Harry asked, muffled from the mattress.
"That snake didn't come from thin air, it was conjured. Draco simply took it from wherever it was and brought it there. It is not creating something so much as it is force apparating whatever it is you are conjuring to you." Harry flipped over and looked to the older wizard.
"So essentially I'm taking one thing and bringing it to me from somewhere else. Why couldn't she just bloody say that?" Voldemort looked highly amused.
"Go downstairs and eat. Now that you have the last five years caught up I need you fed before I teach you something new." Harry looked up in excitement. The last time Voldemort had taught him something new it had led to his uncle's murder. Now what was in store?
Petunia had made homemade chicken salad sandwiches with a Caesar salad and as normal she kneeled in the kitchen, awaiting her turn to eat and then clean up. Dudley was staring into space when Harry had ordered him to do nothing, which was highly amusing. So Harry, minding the manners that Voldemort had been instilling into him, quickly devoured his lunch and looked to the man. "All right, what is it?"
Voldemort smirked and ordered outside, which was odd since it was growing dark but Harry merely shrugged and went out the back door. "You were eight when you first apparated. Do you remember that?"
Harry snorted, "Remember it? How could I forget? That earned me weeks in isolation in my cupboard."
"Did you know Harry that apparition without a wand is nearly impossible for most wizards?" Voldemort looked smug as Harry shook his head. "The ease in which you use your wandless magic, even if for little things, is not normal for others either. Most could not do such things. Yet, like I did when I had a body, it is a very normal thing for you. Over the next several weeks we will be working with this, but first, you will learn to apparate."
Harry barely managed to stop himself from gaping and looked warily at Voldemort. "That was when I was eight and scared for my life."
Voldemort only looked bored. "Now you have to be determined and have a clear destination." A ring of blue fire appeared next to him and Harry guessed that it too was a hallucination. "Now when weaker witches and wizards apparate there is a resounding crack that is loud and alerting. However wizards like myself can apparate without a sound. Though I very rarely ever apparate anymore."
Harry gave him a curious look, "Why not?"
"I prefer a method of transportation that I invented when I was travelling through Germany's Black Market." At Harry's questioning look Voldemort sighed, "I haven't named it but if you can apparate inside this ring I will show you what it looks like."
At that Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He thought of all the times he had seen a witch or wizard apparate and concentrated on the center of the ring. Nothing happened.
"Determination Harry, focus your mind on the center of the ring and with a deliberate step will yourself there."
So Harry pictured the center of the ring and felt his magic respond as he took a step. And then the world disappeared and he felt like he was being squished and his torso being crushed by wires. His eyes were being crushed into his skull and he couldn't breathe. It seemed to last an eternity before the rubber tube ended and Harry felt like he was hurling through the air and he landed on all fours, but he noticed with a triumphant smile, he was inside the ring of blue fire.
"I did it!" He exclaimed, too happy to really care about the horrible nausea that was churning in his stomach.
Voldemort nodded with a hungry smirk. "And without a sound."
As happy as Harry was to have been dubbed powerful by the lack of sound he couldn't help but remember that hazy day when he was eight. He had not felt that when he had ended up on the roof of his school, and he told Voldemort that.
"Different? How so?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, trying to recall how he had felt. "But I did not feel that."
Voldemort hummed in response, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. After a while he looked to Harry and said, "Try to do what you did then."
"But I don't know what I did then," Harry protested.
"And you don't know now either."
So Harry thought back to the hazy memory, Dudley had been chasing Harry with his gang. Harry had been terrified because he knew that if he were caught he'd be beaten. So he had run and run but then he had reached a dead end. There hadn't been anywhere else to go they were going to find him so Harry had jumped behind some trash cans, hidden in the shadows praying that they wouldn't find him but knowing they would. And that's when Harry felt it, the feeling of something cold, almost like wind, surrounding him and then he had found himself on the roof.
Harry had felt a comforting chill not this horrendous squishing and asphyxiating feeling of apparating.
What if… Harry didn't have to look but a few feet away to find a shadow as the gray sky provided plenty. He walked over underneath the tree and felt Voldemort watching him carefully. So Harry stood there awkwardly for a moment wondering if he was just being stupid or if this was truly something. So Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on that memory, of the feeling of cold comfort surrounding him.
"HARRY!" Harry panicked at Voldemort's scream and he opened his eyes only to find the world in black and white.
'Harry, harry where are you?' Voldemor's melodious voice was saturated with worry and Harry couldn't help but panic. What was going on?
'I'm right here,' Harry tried to say but he realized it didn't come out vocally but through a mind link of some sorts.
'Where are you?' Voldemort seemed even more anxious and Harry took a moment to observe his surroundings. He was still in his back yard, he could still see Voldemort chewing his lip and looking extremely pissed off. Only when Harry looked down he found he wasn't there. His body was gone. It had seemingly disappeared into shadows. It was as if Harry was only a consciousness now.
What was this? His mind was bursting with questions but his sense of adventure had him wanting to explore this new magic. So he willed himself to move and he found himself on the other side of the tree, a trail of black shadow following him. Again he moved, this time down on the ground and Harry felt a freedom the topped even his broomstick offered. He was sliding through shadows on the grass until he realized that he couldn't go any further. Almost instinctively he knew that if he moved out of the shadows he would rematerialize.
"Harry," Voldemort seemed almost in a panic now and Harry immediately moved forward out of the shadows and found himself on hands and knees at Voldemort's feet.
"Harry!" Voldemort yanked him up and his face seemed to go through every emotion known to man before it went blank. "What in the name of merlin-"
"I was a shadow!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, his grin so large that his cheeks were hurting.
Voldemort blinked and stayed quiet for a moment. "You were a shadow?"
"Yeah it was like my body just dematerialized and I was literally a shadow! The world was black and white and I could sort of just will myself to move. It was bloody amazing!" Harry watched Voldemort's blank mask turn thoughtful and the man let him go.
"Can you do it again?" He asked and Harry shrugged.
"It wasn't hard I can try."
At Voldemort's nod Harry stood back under the tree and concentrated. A cool breeze seemed to wash through him and when Harry opened his eyes he felt like shouting with glee. His body was gone and Harry was once again a shadow. This time he tested this new ability more, he flew high up into tree. The branches passed right through him as if he were a ghost and he slid down the other side before snaking around and facing Voldemort. Was this how he had gotten on the roof of that muggle school? Could this be used as transportation?
Harry decided to find out. So he thought about the shadows behind Voldemort and was disappointed when he felt his corporeal body return. But when he opened his eyes he was behind Voldemort and not in front of him! "Voldemort!" The man spun around in surprise and for the first time in Harry's life, he saw Voldemort gape.
"That's how I did it! It was the shadows!" Harry couldn't help but breathlessly exclaim loudly, his excitement at an all-time high. "I can literally use the shadows like doors!"
"It's not possible…" Voldemort breathed, looking at Harry as if he were looking at Merlin himself. "But it must be."
"What?" Harry asked, afraid that Voldemort would tell him that this was something bad. But Harry could care less, he didn't care if it were bad or evil…Harry snorted at that. Voldemort telling him something was evil? No whatever this was it had to be extremely powerful because Voldemort had no care about good or evil.
"Harry have you ever heard of a mage?" At this Harry shook his head, wondering if the tales in story books counted.
"There are wizards, very powerful wizards who have an affinity towards a certain element. I myself am a fire mage, Dumbledore is a water mage. Do you remember our duel in the ministry?" Harry nodded, he would never be able to forget that duel. It had been magic unlike any he had ever seen before. "Mages are born with an affinity for a certain element, capable of doing astounding feats with it. There have been lightening mages like Grindelwald, and even earth. But," here Voldemort stopped and took a breath as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around whatever it was he was trying to say. "But there are also shadow mages."
Harry gaped despite all the etiquette that Voldemort had been teaching him. He was a shadow mage? "But the difference between shadow mages and the rest, are that they are not born that way, they are made. Which makes them rare. For the shadows to accept a wizard…they have to be powerful and…" Voldemort trailed off seemingly as stunned as Harry felt. He was a shadow mage?
Had that been why he had been so content in his cupboard? Is that why he insisted on closing his curtains every night in the dorm to block out the moonlight? Why he felt at home in the dark?
"Incredible," Voldemort was inches away from Harry now and Harry jumped slightly as he hadn't noticed the older wizard move. A cool hand traced Harry's cheek and Harry couldn't stop himself from leaning into the touch.
'My little mage,' Voldemort hissed quietly, almost reverently.
The next two days Voldemort had Harry relentlessly practicing his apparition until Harry could apparate perfectly inside the ring fire without hardly a second thought. Harry had whined and pleaded to practice with the shadows but Voldemort was adamant that he know how to apparate first, apparently they would be learning how to apparate this year and Harry was going to need all his free time during the school year to practice with Voldemort. But as promised, when Harry was able to apparate without any problems Voldemort allowed Harry to close the blinds in his room and stuff an old shirt under the door, leaving the room pitch black. Harry was loving this new ability to roam about freely and according to Voldemort, undetected. Not only could he sweep along the floor but he could also climb the walls and float mid-air when he wasn't creeping along the ceiling. For hours Harry would drift through walls, though he had to be careful as the second he ran out of shadows his corporeal form was back and Harry suffered a fall from the ceiling in Dudley's bedroom.
It was a few days after the initial discovery of Harry's shadow mage abilities that two letters arrived, one from Ron and one from Gringotts. Voldemort read over the contract twice before he allowed Harry to sign it and send it on its way. The second letter was left on the desk as Harry stared at it.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Voldemort asked after a few minutes of Harry just staring at the envelope.
"I forgot about them," Harry confessed, feeling a small twinge of guilt. "It feels like a lifetime has gone by and I honestly just forgot about him."
"Well then burn it." Harry threw Voldemort a glare though it really wasn't very angry. It was no secret Voldemort hated blood traitors. And if Harry was honest a part of him did want to burn it.
Harry sighed and opened the letter.
Hey mate!
How's your summer going? Mums keeping us locked up at the Burrow and I think I'm going mad from being cooped up here for so long, but at least we can still play Quidditch. How's the muggles treating you? Hope your well. Hopefully soon we can get Dumbledore to bring you here, I need a seeker on my team cause Ginny's whoopin my butt. Oh yeah! Hermione's coming in a few days but you know her, she'd never get on a broomstick. Still it'll be great to have her. Has she written to you? She's been strangely quiet, first letter I got from her was asking to come stay before we head off to Hogwarts and if you'd be there. She didn't even ask if I did my homework.
Are you still grieving Sirius?
Well write back, hope your well.
Ron
Harry let the letter fall to the desk and sighed. Ron seemed like a lifetime ago. The brash crudeness now seemed annoying rather than quaint. After all the time Harry had spent with Voldemort going back to the Weasley's just seemed…wrong.
"What are you going to do?" Voldemort asked as he peered over Harry's shoulder. That was a good question, what was he going to do? There was no way Harry could confide in Ron about all that had happened. How he had changed. How he had murdered his uncle and basically Imperiused his aunt and cousin. How he had been learning parselmagic. How he had learned he was a shadow mage. And how he had basically joined Voldemort. Still, this was a good opportunity to find out what was going on with the Order and…
Harry sighed again and crumpled the letter before tossing it in the waste basket. It was easier if he just didn't go to the Burrow this summer. He still had so much that Voldemort had to teach him and if Harry were honest with himself, he preferred it when it was just him and the Dark Lord. He wouldn't have to hide their conversations or pretend the older wizard didn't exist.
Grabbing Voldemort's hand Harry drug him to the bed and laid down, practically forcing the Dark Lord to lay down next to him. Harry curled up on his chest and when Voldemort made no protest Harry relaxed and melted into the man. "I'm different now."
"The question is how different."
Harry frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Well," Voldemort's hand found Harry's hair and Harry smiled, preening at the touch. "You could always decline and make up an excuse. Perfectly acceptable if you can't betray those who call you friend. Or you could go, and gather information. Pretend nothing has changed and deceive them all."
"I suppose we do need the information." Voldemort hummed in agreement. "But do you think I could pull it off? I mean after all I've learned, all I've done…"
"So your worry is not about betraying them, but if you would be caught?" Voldemort's question only highlighted how much Harry had changed and he wondered if he should feel bad about it.
"I suppose," Harry agreed, "But I also don't want to give this up."
"You have a few days before you must answer. In the mean time I suggest tomorrow you have the muggle file a police report for her husband and you contact Dumbledore. If you are willing to play spy then this will be a great reason for the Boy-Who-Lived to turn to his headmaster." Harry hummed in agreement, resigned to the fact that he would in fact be playing spy.
"What about tonight?" Harry asked, wondering because they still had hours until nightfall.
"You're healing potions are done so you are back to relatively perfect health. I suggest we fix your eyes."
Harry nearly jumped off the bed in excitement. Voldemort had been adamant that they wait until both the core stabilizer and the healing potions be thoroughly absorbed before adding anything else into his system. "You know this will hurt right?" Voldemort asked as Harry bounced off the bed and opened his wardrobe.
"I know, but like you said glasses are an unnecessary weakness."
Harry ate those words not ten minutes later when Dudley was ordered to hold him down and Petunia stood over him dosing each eye with the purple medicine. "Don't scratch at them, just close your eyes and bear it." Voldemort tried to tell him but Harry only cursed him with every swear word he knew.
It felt like his eyes were being burned from their sockets and Harry desperately wanted to itch them, or more likely claw them out. Thankfully the potion took mere minutes for the agony to fade and give way to an annoying itch that he could handle on his own and Harry sent the muggles away. He was content to hold his pillow over his face and call Voldemort even more curses. The man merely smirked at him and told him he was acting childish.
It took an hour before the itching stopped and it was safe for Harry to open his eyes. He was absolutely bewildered by the clarity and sharpness that even with his glasses, Harry had never seen before. It was stunning. Where once were blobs and blurry features Voldemort's face was crisp and angular, his eyes startling in their depth, the crimson looked as if it were actually swirling blood. The room was in much better focus and he could see everything from the chipped wood of the wardrobe to the scuffs on the floor.
"Was it worth it?" Voldemort asked smugly, most likely already knowing it was.
"Definitely," Harry answered with a grin.
Harry reached for the old glasses on his bedside table gave them a parting smirk before he hissed, 'banish.' The glasses disappeared and Harry grinned before jumping back on the bed and pulling Voldemort down with him.
Preparations had to be made before Harry could mail off the letter to Dumbledore about his "missing" uncle. And for this, Harry was completely unqualified. Voldemort had had to possess Harry, like he had when he had healed him, and go deep into the minds of both Petunia and Dudley. The past week they had spent as Harry's slaves had had to be completely wiped and presuming Dumbledore himself would come, Voldemort had had to create false memories in their place. Harry had been amazed as he watched from the subconscious as Voldemort tore through their minds erasing any traces of magical slavery. Harry likened it to watching the duel back in the ministry. He had never seen anything like it and Harry felt a new level of awe for the man. It had also sparked a desire to learn the mind magics.
But Voldemort had made Harry a deal, after all his summer homework and if Harry was, with Voldemort's tutoring of course, completely caught up with the next year, then Voldemort would teach him Occlumency and Legilimency. Of course as excited as Harry was to learn the mind arts, he dreaded knowing that that would only add to the list of things Voldemort would be tutoring him in. This coming year Voldemort was planning on teaching him Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, the mind arts, the dark arts, and the more advanced parselmagic. Harry knew that with all of this there would be no time for Quidditch, though that that didn't perturb him at all, because now Harry had a new freedom…his shadows. And that was a freedom that far surpassed any broomstick.
So after Petunia and Dudley had had their memories altered and were released from the magical slavery, much to Harry's disappointment, they had sent the letter to Dumbledore and waited. Petunia had been a wreck as she filed a police report and Dudley had not stopped wailing for hours, so Harry had made his way to a little café in the subway station with Voldemort and the Daily Prophet in tow. The gloomy atmosphere was beginning to grow on Harry and he found he wasn't as put out at never seeing the sun. The storms, as horrendous as they were, were actually relaxing. And left Harry feeling a bit excited for the even worse things to come.
"Do you prefer coffee?" Voldemort asked as Harry stirred his cup that a caramel colored waitress with wild curls had brought to his table.
"Yes, it's stronger than tea."
They sat in comfortable silence as Harry read about the disappearances and the new preventive measures that Minister Srimgeour had put in place to protect the people from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But Harry found it boring quickly and folded the paper back up. "When do you think Dumbledore will show?" Harry asked as he sipped his coffee.
"Sooner than you might think," Voldemort said with a deep frown and frosty eyes. Harry followed his companion's eyes and found Dumbledore across the way. Harry only caught a brief glimpse before a subway was speeding by and by the time it had ended Dumbledore was gone. Harry sighed deeply but couldn't help but smile as he felt Voldemort take his hand. "It has started, little serpent." Harry silently threw some muggle money on the table and walked back up the stairs to the main street, unsurprised to find Dumbledore waiting with a benevolent smile.
"You can do this little serpent," Voldemort murmured and placed his hand on the small of Harry's back.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed with a forced enthusiasm. "I'm so glad you got my letter."
Relief passed through Dumbledore's eyes and Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. "My dear boy it warms my heart to see you looking so healthy. Come, let us walk and talk. It is not safe to be out so late alone."
Harry dipped his head and nodded. "Do you think you can find him Professor?" Harry asked after a few minutes of silence and looked to his headmaster. Harry wondered what was going on in the man's head. He was probably happy for the muggle going missing, after all, his precious weapon had once again returned to him. Voldemort snorted loudly and Harry glanced at him with a small smirk.
"I promise you Harry that I will do my very best to find him, but you must be prepared for the very real possibility that Lord Voldemort has already killed him." Dumbledore's face was grave and his eyes lost their twinkle. Harry frowned and bowed his head.
"Now let us talk of such things inside, it is unwise to do so here. You never know who is listening and I have a few important topics to discuss with you." Harry nodded obediently and fell quiet.
"I wonder what is so important," Voldemort murmured to himself, though he never took his hand away from Harry's back.
At long last they arrived at Private Drive and while Harry invited his Professor in, Petunia Dursley had other plans. "YOU!" she shrieked in her nasally voice as she pointed a thin boney finger at Dumbledore. "You-Your-"
"My dear woman, I am Albus Dumbledore. The man who has corresponded to you via mail." Dumbledore answered calmly, as if that would soothe the raging woman.
"YOU promised us we'd be SAFE!" Petunia shrieked and red puffy eyes welled up with large tears again. "He's gone…he's gone….MY HUSBAND!"
For his part Dumbledore did look terribly sad and Harry watched in a morbid fascination as Dumbledore conjured a bottle of Firewhiskey and two goblets, as if that would calm her. "NO NO! No more freakishness in this house! I WANT YOU BOTH OUT! NOW!" Petunia looked on the verge of a total mental collapse and Harry wondered if she might try to attack Dumbledore. He wished she would, that would be a memory worth gold.
"Mrs. Dursley I understand your grief but surely in such times family needs to stick together." Dumbledore sat on one of the large chairs as if he owned the place and Harry briefly wondered if she'd grab one of her large kitchen knives to attack him with.
That is until Petunia shrieked, "It was him!" She pointed that boney finger at Harry and he felt his blood turn to ice. No. There was no way. She couldn't-
"Shhhh, my little serpent." Voldemort cooed in his ear and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "There is no way she remembers anything." Harry felt himself relax at Voldemort's words and watched as Petunia continued to rant.
"If he hadn't been here my husband would still be alive! I WANT YOU BOTH OUT!" Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words before he nodded his head in defeat.
"My dear woman if I could ask for just enough time for Harry and I to discuss arrangements and to pack we will leave your home." Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise before looking to Petunia who looked more mad than Harry had ever seen her.
"Fine but then I want you out!" Petunia snapped and stomped up the stairs.
Dumbledore looked to Harry with sad eyes and Harry had bite back a smirk that threatened to curl his lips. Instead Harry bowed his head and waited for Dumbledore to speak. "My dear boy…" he sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm so sorry to have to bring this up now of all times but it seems we have no choice."
"It's okay headmaster," Harry replied dutifully, truly curious as to what could be so important.
Voldemort scoffed as Dumbledore sighed and Harry couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous face before realizing in horror that he had just done so and turned it into a cough. Dumbledore seemed not to notice but Voldemort was smirking. Dumbledore summoned a glass of the amber liquid and caught it in his right hand and at the same time Harry noticed, Voldemort gasped and moved closer to Dumbledore.
"Sir- your hand-" It was blackened and gnarled, shriveled as if his flesh had been burned away.
"Not now Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly while Voldemort let loose a stream of foul curses that had Harry looking to him in confusion. "Please, sit down." So Harry sat down on the couch beside his headmaster, unable to tear his eyes away from the crippled hand.
"It seems Harry," said Dumbledore turning towards him, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I of course mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first I must tell you that Sirius' will was discovered a week ago and that he left you with everything he owned." Harry blinked in surprise. Shit he had forgotten about Sirius as well. Was he meant to be broody over this whole thing? Shit. Harry looked to Voldemort which was probably the last thing he should have done in that situation because Voldemort knew absolutely nothing when it came to grief over family. Hell he killed his. Shit Harry was one third of the way through his family.
"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore went on, oblivious to Harry's dilemma. "you add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit all of Sirius' personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy is Grimmauld Place." Harry tried to keep up with what his headmaster was saying but there were so many questions running through his head and the anger that was licking through his veins made it nearly impossible to concentrate.
Obviously Dumbledore was waiting for him to say something and Harry wondered what was appropriate to say. What would he have said a few weeks ago? "I- I – um don't mind if you continue using Grimmauld as headquarters. But I'd like to retrieve a few personal things from there first."
"That is very generous of you Harry," Dumbledore said smiling, "But we have temporarily vacated the building."
"Why?"
"Well," Dumbledore said, "Black family tradition decreed the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black,' Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."
Harry could easily picture the shrieking portrait of Walburga Black and he grinned ruefully, "I'll bet there has."
"Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius' living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange." The pale woman with coal black eyes and wild messy curly hair flashed in his mind. 'You have to mean it Potter…righteous anger won't hurt me for long….' Bellatrix was a formidable dueler and Harry remembered her and Sirius' duel with sparkling clarity. She hadn't been out for blood, not like she had been when she had taken on other Order members. That duel had been like a duel between siblings, hateful and playful, neither trying to kill but to one up the other for bragging rights. Like he had seen the twins do so often. Bellatrix hadn't killed Sirius, she had stunned him. He had fallen through the Veil of Death and died.
But still…Harry wanted Grimmauld. There were centuries worth of magic in that house and it was his. "No," Harry ground out, nearly growling.
"Well obviously we would prefer she didn't get it either," said Dumbledore calmly. "The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius' hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."
"So how do we find out if I own it?" Harry asked, silently pleading for Voldemort to say something, anything. The man was staring at Dumbledore's hand with such intensity Harry was worried it might catch fire and defile it even more.
"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test. You see if you have inherited the house you have also inherited-" Harry knew exactly what Dumbledore was talking about the moment he trailed off and it came to no surprise as Dumbledore flicked his wand and with a loud crack a house elf appeared. Kreacher was small and frail with bloodshot eyes and his snout for a nose dripping as if he had been in the middle of crying.
"Kreacher," Dumbledore finished saying.
"Kreacher won't! Kreacher won't! Kreacher won't!" The house elf sobbed into hands. "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't won't-"
"Enough," Harry roared and sneered at the elf. He understood the elf's plight but that didn't mean Harry was going to tolerate this annoying screeching.
Kreacher abruptly shut up and his hands went to his throat. His large eyes went even wider as he made a choking noise and then fell over on his back, his twiggy arms and legs sticking straight up in the air as if he had died.
"Well," said Dumbledore cheerfully, "that that simplifies matters. It seems Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."
Harry looked down at the pathetic elf and wondered briefly if he should let Dumbledore decide what to do with it, but that idea was quickly tossed out of the window. Having a house elf, no matter how insane, was useful. And Harry wasn't about to turn away such a useful thing. "Kreacher go upstairs and pack my things in my trunk, including the stuff in my wardrobe."
Kreacher shot him a hateful look before disappearing and Harry decided he'd put a stop to that as soon as Dumbledore was gone. Speaking of Dumbledore, the man looked vaguely disappointed but it was gone in a second and he continued on. "Now, there is also the small matter of the Hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius passed away, but Buckbeak is now yours, so if you would prefer to make other arrangements-"
"No," Harry cut in, "he can stay with Hagrid."
"Hagrid will be delighted," said Dumbledore, smiling. "He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decide, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him Witherwings for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the Hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, all we have to do is wait on your trunk-"
With that Kreacher and Harry's trunk appeared and Harry pierced the elf with a searching gaze, "You packed everything?"
"Yes," the elf ground out as if the word were acid on his tongue.
"Well then," Dumbledore looked around once more, "I will speak to Mrs. Dursley at a later date as she is not in a very healthy emotional state. I think the best thing we can do for now, is to leave."