Chapter 6: Reading of the Will

"Can I really afford not to show up personally to the Will reading?" Harry couldn't help but ask again as he paced up and down the living room of the apartment.

Lenore Hydra gave him a mildly amused look. "As I've already assured you, my job is to safeguard your interests. That includes acting as your proxy, since the atmosphere these days is 'threatening'." She put the words in air quotes, and smiled. "I'll throw in the Emancipation along with it, since Dumbledore is likely to tail me on the way out."

"He won't like that." Harry noted grimly.

"It won't be any of his business at that point." Lenore responded. "Just act quiet and reserved at school, and give him some lip service to what he expects. Grief changes people, after all."

"She's got a point, Harry." Tracey's voice floated from the next room. "Once you choose your last two wives and officially revive the houses, you won't need to keep up the facade, but it would still be smart to keep your opponents in the dark about what you know and what you're planning."

"Even if you don't have solid plans?" Harry asked ruefully.

"Especially if you don't have solid plans," Lenore admonished him, looking amused. "I'll give you my memory of this afternoon so you can see the proceeds for yourself. Have a nice afternoon." Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she vanished into the hallway and headed for the elevator.

Harry let out a long breath, and walked into the next room where Tracey was sitting. There was wrap on the floor, with several cans of paint sitting open next to the chair where she was sitting. Directly in front of her was a canvas with the beginnings of a city landscape having been painted onto it. Tracey's red-gold hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing muggle paint splatter clothes, her brush having been dipped in a new mixture and was poised to touch the canvas again. Sitting on a stand to her right was a picture of the New York skyline, which she was replicating.

"That looks amazing, Tracey." Harry said. Tracey let out a noise of surprise at his entrance but didn't turn around; her focus was still mainly on her work. "Very professional. How long have you been painting?"

"Ten years," Tracey responded, lightly brushing a thin line to begin the Empire State Building. "When I was a child, this was all I wanted to do. It still is, for the most part. Landscapes are my favourite, but I can do people pretty well." She flashed him a small smile. "I've been thinking about convincing you and Gwen to sit down for a little so I can paint you two as well."

"Depends; how long would 'a little' consistent as?" Harry asked lightly.

Tracey put on a look of deep contemplation. "Two hours?" She said. The two faux scowled at each other before bursting out into laughter. "But seriously, if you sit and take a big enough picture, I could work from that."

"I'm honoured and somewhat embarrassed by the offer. We'll arrange that the next time Gwen gets out of the house." Harry responded. Tracey glanced over at him and smiled. "How long have you been working at this one?"

"A few hours." Tracey said, finishing up the scaling of the building. Then she washed off the brush in the extra jar, dried it, and grabbed the red canister off the ground. "Artistry requires patience, and a careful hand."

"What else have you done?"

"The view from my father's vacation home in Canada, for one. I have one for each season." Tracey said, once again absorbed in her work. "It was three stories and sat a couple dozen metres away from a lake shore. Sunrise and sunset, especially when mother's gardens were in bloom, was quite spectacular. I've also painted Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, the former in Spring and the latter in Winter. There's also the constellations and the Forbidden Forest, but lately I've been wishing I could see more varied environments. No matter what corner of the city I stand in, it always seems to look the same."

Tracey took a moment to stretch her cramped arms before returning to the painting. "However, coming out here has reawakened my passion with a vengeance. I do hope we do some travelling in the not too distant future, because if it's as fascinating as what I've seen here, I shall never run out of material."

"Once this nightmare is over, I'll see what I can do about that." Harry said. "I admit, I always wanted to go see different places." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And personally, I think I'll be glad to be shot of Britain for a while once the Death Eaters are sent underground."

Tracey grimaced slightly. "You aren't the only one," She promised. "I've got plenty of bad memories here, myself."

"You do?"

Tracey pondered the question for a second, before starting, "I used to have a friend, before I met Daphne. My best friend. We did everything together as little girls."

"Did something happen to her?" Harry asked as gently as he could.

"Well, we were both pure blood girls." Tracey snorted at the title, before going on. "Her family was...much more conservative than mine. We're talking Malfoy levels of conservative."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It isn't. You see, the closest thing my friend had to a mother figure was her aunt. Her real mum was a trophy wife and a social climber. Her aunt, however, she was awesome." Tracey smiled at the memory of the woman. "She was full of life and sass. It was hard to believe that she was raised conservative. However, the family didn't like it. They thought her behaviour was often 'disgraceful', 'unbecoming', all that tripe. But they tolerated it until she went and committed the ultimate sin."

"Which was?" Harry didn't like where this was going.

"She fell in love with a muggleborn." Tracey said simply. "They tried to elope, but her brother caught them leaving. The next morning, she was dead."

Harry sat in silence for a moment while he connected the dots. "Her own family killed her?" He hissed in disbelief. "For falling in love?"

Tracey nodded seriously. "Those are Honour Killings, Harry. They're less common in this day and age, but the fanatical families would rather spill their own blood than see it mingle with 'dirty muggle spawn'." She shook her head. "I miss the Pansy Parkinson I knew as a little girl. Did you know she used to play the violin?"

"Whoa! Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin?"

"One and the same. Hard to believe, I know."

"Actually, not really." Tracey gave him a surprised look, prompting him to elaborate, "Gwen and I went to visit our parents' graves a week ago, and we ran into her there. She was tending to a tombstone for a person called Aileen Parkinson."

Tracey's eyes grew stormy, and she stared back at her painting. "Yeah; that was her."

"Does...does Pansy know who killed her?" Harry asked carefully.

Tracey shook her head. "She was told Aileen's muggleborn lover was responsible. I have no idea what happened to him, though it's likely that he was killed as well. From Owen's point of view, it makes twisted sense – it wasn't his fault for doing this, you see. Aileen made him do it by being ensnared by that lesser cretin."

Harry let out a wordless snarl and started pacing around the room. Tracey remained lazer focused on her painting, but the whiteness of her knuckles and the very deliberate lines she was drawing spoke quite clearly of her mental state.

The two stood in silence. "What happened after that?" Harry asked softly. "To Pansy?"

"She became the cold girl you remember from school." Tracey said, trying to sound matter of fact, but there was a noticeable strain in her voice. Harry walked over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her tension let out somewhat at that, which made both of them blush slightly when they realized it. Sounding more sad and regretful, Tracey finished, "She stopped coming to visit me. I figured it was grief. By the time she got to school, all that anger that should have been pointed at Owen and her grandfather was pointed elsewhere."

"Did you ever try to talk to her?"

Tracey sighed. "I wanted to, a lot. But whenever I tried, all I could do was compare who she used to be in my head, to this tormented, angry wraith, and it was too painful. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to convince her, or she wouldn't listen to me. I learned the truth from mum back in my first year, when I talked to her about you."

"About me?"

"Yeah. I told her I thought you were pretty friendly, but back then mum had to contend with Kaius, who hated you. She told me not to befriend you – not to be deliberately hostile or anything, but to keep my distance. When I demanded to know why, by the time third year rolled around, she told me that story."

"...Did she care about you? Back when you were friends?"

Tracey cracked a small smile. "You would have thought we were sisters. We almost never went anywhere without each other."

"Then I think she would believe you." Harry said. Tracey looked up at him, both hopeful and curious. "When I saw her in the graveyard, I asked her who she was visiting. At first, she pretended it was a stranger, but then she said it was her aunt. Her twisted family hasn't managed to server that love she had for her. It's worth at least trying, I think."

Tracey's expression let up for a moment, before she blinked at him. "I'm grateful, Harry, but I admit I'm a little surprised."

"That I'm worried about a Slytherin?"

Tracey blushed a bit. "That isn't a slight against you, I swear; I know most of my house has been pretty nasty to you. Plus she's a pure blood; she may not believe it but she puts up a pretty nasty facade."

"I don't believe in an eye for an eye, unless the person delivering it is evil like Voldemort or his minions." Harry said firmly. "And I'll tell you the same thing I told Pansy – I don't see house divides or pure bloods. When I look at her, and you, I see people – people who have suffered, and people who are talented and I'm glad I'm getting to know them more."

Tracey gently set her paintbrush down and smiled up at Harry again. "And I'm glad I'm getting to know you too," She said quietly. "I'm just sorry that we couldn't have been friends for longer."

"Me too." Harry said. "But let's see if we can create a world where people like us can be friends, no matter what."

The two smiled, and then Harry pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I watch you work?"

**~Several Hours Later~**

~In a Ministry Hearing Chamber~

Narcissa Malfoy was a patient woman. She had been raised a Black, and being married into the Malfoy family meant that there had been no curb on her viciously selfish and ambitious nature. Her son Draco had inherited the worst of her and her husband's traits. She was at the Reading of Sirius Black's Will because she was certain her son was about to be named Lord Black; making the Malfoy family Ancient and Noble and finally granting her and her family the kind of power she had desired all her life.

With the right kind of family magics – and Narcissa knew many, she had been born a Black after all – she could augment Draco's strength with rituals. He would enter Voldemort's army as a loyal subordinate, climb the ladder to be his most trusted – just like his father – and, when the monster's guard was at its lowest, stab him in the back. With that, Draco would claim Slytherin, and with that most of the Ministry's power would be hers without having to spend so many galleons on bribes. Money didn't grow on trees, after all, and at this rate – with her currently attempting to buy a pardon for her husband – they would risk running low.

Likely Sirius wouldn't have wanted Draco to be Lord Black. But the man had died without any children. The title would pass on to his next of kin. Narcissa was sure of that. You should have chosen our side, Sirius, the woman thought.

Most of the dignitaries were already there, but there were still a few minutes left, and stragglers were emerging. Narcissa, who had been taking a drink, nearly choked when a familiar duo entered the room and walked to the other of the ante chamber.

"What's she doing here, mother?!" Draco demanded, glaring angrily at Ayla Hydra, who sat down next to her aunt, that insipid lawyer, as if she belonged in their world.

Narcissa hated the Hydras on sight. It had been one thing for her husband to find some temporary amusement while she had been pregnant. It was another thing entirely to not get rid of the resulting spawn! Narcissa didn't care about ancient family law in this respect. The girl's continued life was an insult to her and her son, the true Malfoy. At least Lucius hadn't given her the family name. To that extent, he had been reasonable. I would hardly threaten our son's future with a bastard I care nothing for, he had promised her.

Lenore caught sight of the death glares heading her way, and she did something that unnerved Narcissa greatly. She smirked.

As a rule, lawyers didn't smirk unless they knew something you didn't. And Narcissa had been in the game long enough to recognize the signs.

"All rise..."

"Wait."

Percival Weasley, who was in charge of the reading since he had been promoted within the Ministry, sputtered to a halt and stared down at the one who had interupted. It was a goblin emissary from the bank.

"We have done a final audit in the vault in question," the creature said, "and we have informed the Ministry that there have been some alternations. We never received a response."

An eruption of muttering filled the common room. Dumbledore, of course, called for silence, before frowning down at the creature. "How long ago did you discover it?"

"Four weeks, wizard." The goblin sneered. "I was beginning to believe we were being ignored."

"No, never, our good friend," Dumbledore said soothingly. "The Ministry has been experiencing some upheval, so the papers must have gotten lost in the shuffle. Please, give us the updated information. We wouldn't want anyone getting short changed thanks to poor paper pushing."

There were some scatters of laughter, but they didn't last long. Narcissa glared at the old man, at the creature, and finally at Lenore. Was this what she was going on about?

With the snap of his fingers, the papers Percy had been about to read were replaced by new ones. Bowing slightly – the gesture looked quite sarcastic – the goblin then left the room. Ayla smirked, her aunt laying a hand on her shoulder.

Percy activated the will, which began to speak on its own as many did.

"This is the Last Will and Testament of Lord Sirius Orion Black, head of the House of Black and all the insipid titles that go along with it." The voice sounded like Sirius's, since he had completed it with a dictation quill. More nervous chuckles scattered around. "Being of sound mind and sound body – shut up, Remus – I hereby arrange these following testaments in case I may die in the tribulations to come."

"Firstly, as I am without children of my own, it is with great happiness that I adopt my godson, Harry James Potter, into my family as my primary Heir."

"WHAT?!" Draco shrieked; Narcissa had to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder to get him to shut up, her heart was pounding. Lenore's smirk matched her nieces, sending waves of rage through the Malfoy lady. They must have set this up!"

"Furthermore, this means that the titles, land, votes and finances of House Black will pass on to his control. Should I die in the midst of this ridiculous war, I leave my permission to grant Harry Potter-Black emancipation, so he may use all his wits and fullest strength to survive and do something about this shithole we call a country."

Nervous, shocked silence followed this.

"To my cousin Andromeda and her daughter Dora, I grant you reinstatement into our family, if only so you can benefit from financial support. You were always my favourite cousin, Andy."

"To my friend Remus Lupin, I leave the contents of the second section of my vault, and this to say – for god's sake, buy some better clothes, and have kids. Maybe a few with pink hair."

In the stands, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks went identical shades of red, though it couldn't be ignored that they were sitting right next to each other. Andromeda looked both sad and happy; her husband put a steadying hand on her arm.

"To my cousin Narcissa Malfoy and her hellspawn – I leave you nothing, and don't think I don't know that you tried to ensure the Lord Black title would pass to you. I have ensured otherwise. I disown you from my house. I refuse to recognize you, and I doubt Harry will either."

Narcissa sputtered. Draco screamed curses at the will, swearing that it was faked and he must be Lord Black until the aurors threatened to remove him; at that point he finally quieted to prevent suffering further public humiliation.

When the will was finished, there was nearly pandemonium.

"Where is Lord Black?!" Dumbledore called over the noise.

"Elsewhere." The lawyer, Lenore said. "He didn't think it was prudent to come. He may be emancipated, but he is still in school – that's what he said to me."

"You?"

"I'm the lawyer hired by Gringotts to assist with the handling of the Black estate." Lenore said casually. Narcissa thought about drawing her wand and killing the woman right then and there, but the room was full of aurors. It wouldn't achieve anything. "Lord Black was grateful for my assistance; he said 'this sort of math has always made my head spin'."

"But if Harry had come to me-"

"With all due respect sir, he is emancipated." Lenore retorted. Ayla had buried her face in her hands now, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Narcissa grabbed her son's wand arm. "He doesn't need to come to you for anything."

Dumbledore paled.

Percy swallowed. "The...the hearing is completed. Those who were mentioned in the will, please proceed to speak with the goblins and the bank..."

Across the room, from both the Malfoys and Dumbledore and his pet Order members, Beatrice Abbot glanced over at her husband. "Harry Potter-Black...that's the boy Hannah said saved her life during her second year at Hogwarts, isn't it?"

Tobias sighed heavily. He had been dreading that connection being made. He knew the history of Life Debts among high society, even by those who worked for Dumbledore. "Indeed. I had wondered if he was ever going to address the Life Debt."

"Wouldn't he have come here to state his intentions to us?" Beatrice wondered.

"He was raised muggle. He may not know all the protocols." Tobias pointed out. "But, with the Black, Potter and Slytherin influences, we'd best approach him first and come to some sort of beneficial conclusion."

"Do you think he'll want the mercenary core?" Beatrice asked quietly as the twosome got up to leave.

"If I were in his place, I would." Tobias chuckled darkly. Beatrice knew what that meant. "Besides, I imagine those men are dying to stretch their muscles. And not for now, then when?" He gently put an arm around her shoulder. "After all, that Voldemort bastard thinks you're an undesirable. I may just unleash them either way."

"Do you think the victory would last?"

"If that boy really is a Prophecy Child? It just might."