Renovating the House of Black

With a pop, Harry and Dumbledore appeared in a battered square that had been a small park in better days.

Harry took a deep breath. The apparition had not been comfortable, but it had been better than the first time, and not just because he'd been prepared for it. He looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore said, "I used to have something of a knack for making side-along apparition comparatively comfortable, but I've seldom done it since the war." He pointed to two houses. "See their addresses, Harry?"

The houses were grimy, in disrepair, and oddly enough, one was marked Number 11, another Number 13, with no 12 in between.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it if he'd been passing by, but since they'd come and Dumbledore was pointing it out... "Number 12 is hidden?"

Dumbledore took out a piece of paper. "Read this."

12 Grimmauld Place is at 12 Grimmauld Place.

In the small space between 11 and 13, a large building appeared. A dark building that contrived to look squat despite being four stories plus an attic.

Harry said, "It's a tautology. How can that even work?"

Dumbledore walked toward it, Harry following. "If you think about your readings, you'll be able to make a decent guess."

Harry thought back to some of the less comprehensible pages of The Character of Magic. "Even though it's a tautology, it's a synthetic a priori, because the information isn't actually the words, it's just encoded in the receival of the words as written on that paper. I could find the Auror in charge of looking for Snuffles and tell him that sentence, or write it on a different piece of paper, but it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't let him see the house, because what you're holding is what has the real key."

"Good," said Dumbledore, and rang the bell. "If someone read only the subject, would that be enough?"

"You'd need subject and predicate both," said Harry. "Designation and information."

Dumbledore said, "And how do you think the information is encoded?"

"Um... Well, magic?"

"Indeed. You may wish to re-read The Character Of Magic after you've read The Warp of the Ward."

The door opened. Remus stepped through, shook Harry's hand, and patted him on the back.

"Harry, Albus, come in. All ready for a long stay, Harry?"

"Definitely. Trunk's in my pocket." He slapped it, and followed Lupin into the entry hall.

What he saw of the house was in a state of flux. The floor was smooth cement, ready for flooring, the walls were covered in muted, tree filled wallpaper that gave one the impression of being in a silver forest at dusk, but then the wallpaper ended, showing drywall. There was a hole in the ceiling, with pipes and struts visible, clearly having been worked on recently, and light was provided by old-fashioned gas lamps that did not match the honest to goodness muggle phone on the buffet.

Dumbledore said, "I hardly recognize it."

A harsher voice said, "I'd hope not." Sirius came in wearing a red bathrobe with black flowers, hair wet, a blue towel still in one hand, obviously fresh from the bath. "Harry! Welcome to my dreary abode."

He gave his godson a hug, likely less rambunctious than it would've been if he'd been wearing more than a bathrobe. "You're here for awhile?"

"Whole summer, maybe," said Harry. "If that works for you."

"It's excellent for me. Being here is not the greatest fun, but there is at least a lot to do. We've cleared out all the doxies and boggarts and the like, gotten rid of a lot of the old junk, and more or less made the first floor and the basement habitable. Got most of the wallpaper done today. We'll finish it and do the new flooring tomorrow. You've got a large room with a walk-in-closet, a fresh ether mattress and two rugs to keep your feet warm till the floor's in."

"You've been renovating? What is this place?"

"The old Black house. My family's. Grew up here, hated it, hated it, full of bad memories. My mother and I clashed on everything, but not least on decorating principles. She's a bitch, you'll meet her later, We had house-elf heads mounted in the hallway. Imagine that. I took them down, and Kreacher hid them somewhere when I wasn't looking. Hungry?"

"Not yet, but I could eat. But, you said I'll meet your mother later. Isn't she...?"

Sirius said, "She's dead, thank Merlin. Don't worry, you'll see later. Moony, isn't it about time?"

"I'll leave in five."

Sirius led them into the sitting room, full of expensive dark leather furniture. "Muggle furniture, old, damaged and cheap. Better than new with a few charms."

Harry sank into a leather lazy-boy. It was easily equal to the fluffy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, but what attracted more of his attention was the old broken television leaned against a wall.

"Side project, after we get the flooring done, and have done something about these lights. Harry, how's your summer been?"

"It's been good. Just exercising and reading. Professor Dumbledore lent me some books."

Lupin said, "That's quite the honor."

Dumbledore said, "Unfortunately, I have quite a lot of paperwork to get to tonight, so allow me to conclude my business here before you catch up. First, Sirius. The French are now looking for Pettigrew. I expect that in two to three weeks they'll put in an extradition request to the British Ministry. I doubt this will cause much movement, but it does lay more ground work. Second, you can expect Hagrid by sometime this summer to take Buckbeak to more appropriate accommodations.

"Third, you should know that Harry has begun occlumency training. Please make your pensieve available to him, and if you have any mind reading objects in the Black house which are not dangerous, allow him to use them with your supervision."

"Harry, before I leave, I'll give you a splitting headache. Now that you've had a chance to think over your first go at defending against legilimency, how do you rate yourself at the five occlumencic characteristics?"

"I think my will is good. Very good even. I threw off Crouch's Imperius, and Moody couldn't do that."

Dumbledore said, "Crouch used the Imperius on Moody in concert with certain potions that reduced his ability to fight it. But yes, your resistance to compulsion has been noted, and is promising. But what else about will?"

"For occlumency, it's best to have pure will, a sort of purified resolve, not very emotional, and I'm, well, some people might say I'm a little emotional."

"Not a bad thing. Understand Harry that you don't need to become a different self. You only need to master yourself. And compartmentalization?"

"At first I thought I was really bad at it, but..." he thought of his life at the Dursleys, and how he got decent marks at Hogwarts even while his life was under threat. "But the more I thought about it, the more I thought that I do it a lot."

"Yes. You do it powerfully. But not, I would say, skillfully, or with the sort of self-awareness we must aim for. And speaking of self-awareness?"

"That's the one I'm sort of middling with."

And control?"

"I'm bollocks at control," said Harry.

"Indeed. You'll find that control, or at least the sort of control I'd rather you learn, is very much caught up in awareness. You must observe your own emotions, and accept that they are seldom the most important part of the situation. Learn not to suppress them, but to watch them flow past. Dissembly?"

"I'm bollocks at that one too."

"I'd say so. You're a horrible liar, which is nearly a good thing, normally. You carry your heart on your sleeve, Harry, and that isn't a bad place to keep it, but you must learn to stow it elsewhere when you like."

Harry nodded dumbly. He knew that was true. He'd been told it often enough.

"Perhaps a drama course might help. I perform occlumency mainly through awareness and visualization, but Professor Snape gets into character. For you, that may be the more promising tact."

Harry started. "Isn't that dangerous? From what the book says."

"There is a great danger of losing oneself if one does not first become adept at compartmentalization, control, and hardening. Focus on those aspects before attempting that method of dissembly. But now, choose another memory. Something you find embarrassing, but not deeply private."

"My pep-talk to Ron and Hermione about how we needed to stop Snape from stealing the Philosopher's Stone."

"Professor Snape," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. Then, "legilimens."

It went better the second time. Dumbledore needed a little more force to penetrate his initial defense, and once Dumbledore was in, Harry began hitting immediately. Still, it wasn't long before Dumbledore had found what he was looking for.

A painfully young Harry Potter ranting about stopping Snape from getting the stone in order to return Voldemort to life, made more embarrassing by the fact that the mature, adult 14-year old Harry had become sure that his attempt to protect the stone had only fouled up Dumbledore's trap for Voldemort.

Though actually, being forced to watch the memory forced him to admit it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Most of what he said about what was really important was absolutely right.

When Dumbledore allowed himself to be pushed out, Harry had a horrible headache. He clasped his hands with his eyes shut, hands pressed to his temples and didn't realize till he heard the others talking that Lupin had left and returned with pizza.

Dumbledore said, "Unless my nose deceives me, bellpeppers, basil and sausage?"

Lupin said, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore duplicated the box.

#

#

Harry lazed in a bed even more comfortable than what he slept in at Hogwarts; he guessed it was more expensive. But eventually the thunking sound from outside plus the growing pressure on his bladder forced him to throw on some clothes and go looking.

The bare concrete of the hall from yesterday was covered by foam. Thick planks of hardwood flooring laid themselves, all of them grooved and slotted, fitting themselves together.

Lupin was a few steps from the ragged edge of advancing flooring, waving his wand. He said, "Morning Harry," stopped his wand, and the planks froze in mid-air.

Harry ran into the bathroom.

That done, he wandered into the room they'd eaten in last night. A combination kitchen and casual dining room, though he had the idea that it hadn't been that for long. Looking at the floor and the ceiling, he could see where a wall had been knocked out, and the steel sink and the small stove both looked new and surprisingly mugglish.

Sirius was finishing the laying of hardwood flooring through it just as Harry came in.

"Morning Pronglet, help yourself to food."

In the preserver, he found bacon. In the pantry, he found teabags and genuine muggle pop-tarts. The counter played host to an electric toaster and an electric tea kettle, both with their cords cut. When he depressed the toaster's lever, the toaster didn't work.

Sirius grinned and told him to stick the pop-tarts in. Once he had, the coils glowed.

Sirius said, "Put your index finger on the little pad, and think about how well-done you want the pastries."

Harry felt the slightest little hint of something like legilimency, except rather than taking something from him, it was waiting to accept it. A little mental and magical fumbling later, he'd given it his request.

Harry said, "Doing that doesn't break the statute against underage magic?"

Sirius waved the worry aside. "Anything with a wand, or something major wandless. Working a toaster doesn't count. Kreacher!"

A pop, and a small house-elf appeared. For an instant, Harry thought it was Dobby, the only house-elf he'd spent significant time with, but Dobby wasn't so wrinkled and didn't have wispy white hair growing out of his ears.

"Good morning," said Harry, though it was after noon.

Kreacher turned slowly and looked at Harry through bloodshot eyes.

Sirius said, "Kreacher, cook Harry bacon. Nice and crispy. And vegetables of some sort. Harry has to eat right." Sirius began to lay flooring in the next room.

Kreacher said, "Kreacher will do as ungrateful master says."

Harry was in a good enough mood that he only blinked at that, and he forgot it entirely when not a minute later Kreacher give him a plate of perfectly cooked bacon, mushrooms and broccoli.

"Thanks, Kreacher." Harry ate a crispy slice of bacon and noticed the house-elf staring at his forehead.

"Kreacher wonders if it is Harry Potter, it must be, Kreacher can see the scar, the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it."

Harry said, "I think my mother did it, really."

"Half-blood says the mudblood did it. Kreacher wonders why the half-blood lies."

Harry said, "Don't say that word."

"Kreacher does not have to listen to the half-blood, no, Kreacher does not."

Sirius's sharp voice came from the next room. "Kreacher, I order you to obey Harry Potter in all matters. And don't say that word."

"What word are masters wanting Kreacher to not say."

Harry said, "Mudblood. Don't say mudblood."

"Kreacher hears and obeys. Kreacher will no longer refer to the muggle-born filth with that word."
Harry's fists clenched, but performing any sort of violence against a house-elf who'd been told to obey him was blatantly, laughably unacceptable, so he ate a piece of bacon instead, as if to show how little he cared for what the house-elf said.

Sirius came in from the other room. "Kreacher. Go clean on the third floor."

The house-elf vanished with a pop, and Sirius said, "Maybe I should've let you cook your own bacon. But you had to meet the resident terror someday. Our loyal house-elf, continuing on the Black family traditions of cruelty and prejudice."

"Your family?"

"Horrible people."

Harry picked at the rest of his breakfast as Sirius explained about his family, even taking him to another room to look at the family tree and point out all the Death Eaters.

Sirius got back to renovating, forbidding Harry from helping (you're a guest, and without magic, you'd just slow us down) so Harry contented himself with exploring the house, finding it to be in greater disrepair the farther up he went. A basement, containing a kitchen, four stories, plus an attic and a roof access that wouldn't open.

He found Buckbeak in a room on the fourth floor, and while he was nervous being in a room with the Hippogriff (a room that felt much, much smaller than it would've without a Hippogriff for company) Buckbeak seemed happy to see him, and, following Sirius's instructions, he fed the animal from a bag of dead rabbits.

Between potions and Care of Magical Creatures, Harry had gotten used to handling dead animals.

After that questionable honor, he whiled the rest of the time till dinner finishing Forming the Fundament and getting further into Within the Cauldron's Boil, after which he, Sirius and Lupin played a muggle game called Risk, though Sirius and Lupin cast charms on the pieces so they'd move themselves around on being ordered.

Sirius apologized for being a poor host, and Harry laughed.

"It's a hell of a lot better than being at the Dursleys. And I'm spending a lot of this summer quietly reading whether you like it or not. Only thing I don't like is I can't go outside." Then he felt bad for mentioning it.

Sirius said, "Ignore that. Dumbledore's being a worrywart. We just have to take precautions."

Lupin said, "Very stringent precautions. And even then, we must limit how often."

Sirius said, "Come off it Moony. They don't even watch Grimmauld Place anymore. These days the so-called 'manhunt' for me is one intern cataloging my mentions in The Quibbler."

"A little more than that," said Lupin.

"A little. It'll be fine. We'll go hiking the day after tomorrow. You, Lupin, and Snuffles. Do us good to stretch our legs."

Harry said, "It's not going outside, but there's a muggle invention, a treadmill, that allows you to walk in place."

Sirius asked Harry a number of questions about treadmills, then said, "Moony, pick up a treadmill tomorrow. And some muggle lightbulbs too. These ghastly gas lamps do not fit my decorating principles." Sirius sounded very fierce when he said 'decorating principles.' Harry smiled, a little confused, and Lupin nodded gravely.

The next morning, while Sirius cut, sanded, stained and installed the baseboard, Lupin went shopping and Harry finished Within the Cauldron's Bubble, after which he started on his homework, which he'd neglected previously in favor of the books Dumbledore had lent him.

He had put that aside to do meditation exercises and read the introduction to Reading Magicwhen Lupin returned bearing packages of shrunken goods. Sirius told him to put the treadmill "somewhere on the second floor," then unshrunk and tore open a package of clear incandescent lightbulbs.

Harry said, "Does the house even have electricity?"

"Electricity? Electricity? Harry, we're wizards, what do we need with that? Touch your wand to the base, where it gets power."

Harry did so, and almost dropped the bulb when it lit up without his casting any magic. "Is magic like-no, magic isn't like electricity. Not at all."

"And so what? This is a lightbulb, Harry. A lightbulb." Sirius gestured with one as he spoke. "Lighting up is what it's for. Engineers designed it to light up. Years of innovation and improvement. Entire production lines." The phrase caused Sirius almost physical pleasure. "So much intention. So much purpose. It wants to light up, it's desperate to, all it needs is permission. And maybe a couple charms and a couple runes if I want it to work reliably for a few decades. It'll be fun. Muggle lighting in Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

Sirius did not skip to his worktable, but he looked as if he wanted to. "Want to cut some runes, Harry?"

"Haven't taken the class. Care of Magical Creatures and Divination instead."

"Creatures is fine, better than Kreacher anyway, but Divination is a bloody waste of time. But no matter, this is just grunt work, I'll show you how. First you find out what the rune means, then you draw it, then you cut where you drew, then you've done your bit, but the whole time you're drawing and especially when you're cutting, you have to think about what the rune means, and you have to have your intention very clear."

Harry said, "Underage magic?"

"It's fine. I'll be the one actually casting the charms, the runes just anchor them." Sirius showed him the rune scheme he'd drawn up the previous night, going over all the different runes and how they'd work together and the charms he intended to cast.

Harry said, "How do you turn them off and on?"

Sirius slapped his own forehead. "Moony, come take a look at this."

The two men hemmed and hawed over Sirius's rune scheme, and eventually concluded, after asking Harry a few questions about muggles, that they should add a rune for control and buy some muggle light switches.

Harry said, "Don't you need wires?"

"Wires?" said Sirius. "No. I'll animate the light switches so they can take instruction and read the mood, and they'll control the lights themselves. Matching runes."

Lupin left on another errand, and Harry was given a thin brush, a bottle of paint, an awl, and strict instructions as to what order the marks of the runes should be cut in. He ruined several lightbulbs before Sirius passed his wand over one, pronounced it "good enough" and threw it in the trash.

"We want better than good enough," said Sirius.

Harry hid his irritation and moved to the next one.

He'd produced four acceptable lightbulbs when Lupin returned bearing brass light switches and listened with half an ear as Sirius and Lupin discussed the charm scheme and the ward scheme for them, ruining a few more lightbulbs with his inattention.

Over the following few days, Harry finished Within the Cauldron's Bubble and started both The Warp of the Ward and Reading Magic, having limited, ephemeral success at the exercises to sense magic. He did his occlumency exercises and started on his homework, which he'd earlier delayed in favor of reading the books Dumbledore had recommended.

Harry wrote replies to two letters. One from Ron, which was brief and mainly about Quidditch (Ron hadn't ever absorbed that Harry had only ever seen the one professional Quidditch match, and didn't listen to them on the wireless or however it was that Ron followed professional Quidditch) and another by Hermione, which was much longer and mainly talked about the books he'd been reading; she was very happy that Harry was finally reading what was on the recommended reading list, and Harry was embarrassed to realize that, with the exception of Mind's Mortar, all the books Dumbledore had recommended to him were on the recommended reading list given to every student at the end of the year.

Large sections of his reply to her felt surreally like a school essay. The runes drudgery Sirius and Lupin pressed on him also felt scholastic, and Harry thought the time needed to teach him to do the drudgery cost them more time than his doing the drudgery saved.

But the hike from Ockley to Leith Hill made up for quite a number of dull afternoons, and Sirius's rowdiness more than made up for Lupin's reserve. Harry was having a devil of a time getting himself to call his former Professor Remus.And he couldn't help but think about how the man had never contacted him at all until he'd been brought in to teach, and might never have formed any particular relationship at all if Harry hadn't wanted tutoring for the Patronus Charm, and hadn't done much of anything to maintain a relationship since until Harry had been made his housemate.

Then the man came back from an errand with a bunch of dwarf wiggentrees to clean out the ambient dark magic and tossed three shopping bags on Harry's bed.

Two packs of underwear, two packs of socks, six t-shirts, three pairs of jeans, a hooded fleece jacket and a nice pair of loafers that fit Harry perfectly after Lupin cast a spell.

"Noticed you didn't bring much with you," said Lupin.

"Left it in the wash at the Dursleys," said Harry, staring at the clothing. No more turning his underwear inside out. The clothing looked too small, but he tore his shirt off, tried one on, and it fit well, not tight at all. He was just too used to wearing Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs. His voice was rough when he said "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. It's Sirius's money."

"I'll pay him back," said Harry.

Lupin looked amused, "First you'll have to tell him that he didn't notice his godson wearing the same mangled, overlarge shirt twice in four days, then you'll have to convince him that he, as the man who thinks he ought to be your guardian, shouldn't pay for your clothing while you live with him. Or you could mention at dinner that Moony picked up some more clothes for you, since a young man can seldom have too many, and thank him for it."

"I guess I'll thank him," muttered Harry.

Lupin said, "These are still too few to be a proper wardrobe, so I suggest that when you get the chance you go shopping and pick out what you like, rather than being dressed by your goduncle or whatever I am to you."

Lupin left for another errand, and Harry stared after him. Buying his own clothing. That hadn't ever occurred to him before. With the exception of his school uniform, using money to buy clothing was something he'd never done.

Harry changed, blinked into the mirror, realizing that all the past times he'd worn clothing that fit properly it had been wizarding robes, and wizarding robes didn't make anyone look athletic.

In the bottom of one bag he found a leather belt and some toiletries. He'd been using the ever-fresh charm while at school since near the beginning of third-year, but having actual deodorant was nice.

He folded his clothing and put it carefully in the dresser.

It felt like Christmas.

Earlier, when Harry had fantasized about getting all Os on his OWLs, he'd imagined Snape looking outraged, Hermione looking pleased and giving him a hug, and Dumbledore mentioning briefly that he'd was doing well.

He read the next chapter of The Warp of the Ward on the treadmill, imagining Sirius tousling his head, Lupin smiling quietly at the side, and the two of them getting him a cake to celebrate.

Lupin returned from one his myriad errands, and a vaguely familiar voice wafted up the stairs. Harry went down to investigate and found Lupin taking a blindfold off a tall red-head. Bill Weasley.

Harry shook his hand, and Sirius shook Bill's hand and talked a little about how much taller Bill was than the last time he'd seen him (pre-Azkaban) before saying, "I'll come around with you to learn a little more about my wards, and if you don't mind, could you explain as much to Harry as you've got time to?"

Bill glanced at the cover of the book Harry was still holding and asked him a few questions about wards, determining that Harry basically knew what the basics were. Bill took Harry around as he found the center and the poles. Harry wished he'd already finished The Warp of the Ward so he'd have more idea of what Bill was saying, but Bill put in enough rudimentary explanations that Harry figured he'd heard most of what a Professor might say on the fourth day of 'Intro to Wards' or whatnot.

Once Bill had gotten a handle on the house's wards (he seemed impressed), Sirius led them to the main event.

Sirius and Lupin pulled back a pair of velvet curtains that had been stuck together, revealing the portrait of a screaming lunatic.

"Filth, half-breeds, blood traitors, shame to the house of my fathers!"

Sirius and Lupin covered the portrait in silencing charms, even after which Harry could still hear a quiet whine. Being silenced hadn't slowed her mouth.

"Told you you'd meet my mum," said Sirius. "Silencers don't last against her, even if I anchor them with runes. She's built right into the house wards. Can't remove the sticking charm on the back of her, can't burn her without burning a hole in my wards, and she wears at spells. The sticking charms on the curtains come apart after a day or two."

Bill was running his wand and a free hand over the portrait and the wall, muttering spells, a parchment hung suspended in the air filling with lines and symbols.

After twenty minutes, Harry grabbed a chair to sit on as he kept at his book.

The portrait of Sirius's mother, (Mrs. Black, Harry supposed) got a little louder, and Bill paused to freshen the silence charms.

After nearly two hours, Bill called Lupin and Sirius back into the room. He turned to Harry. "Thoughts?"

"It's on an interior wall. I assume we can't just remove the interior wall, but why not?"

"Aside from the fact that it's load bearing, both structurally and wardwise?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't thought of that.

"Why do you think?" said Bill.

It seemed to Harry that, aside from the problems Bill had pointed out, removing the wall ought to work, but obviously it wouldn't or Bill wouldn't be smiling like that. "The Charm says that the portrait is attached to a wall, so if we removed this wall, she'd just attach to another wall?"

"And if we tried to catch her on the way, we'd be pulling against the wards of the house." Then Bill explained all that to Sirius and Lupin in technical details that went well over Harry's head, and concluded by saying "Extricating this without damaging the wards or dropping them for a few hours will take time, but it's not as if I have anything more important to do, and it should be interesting."

Bill began making marks on the wall with a grease pen.

Sirius said, "How much will I owe you?"

"Nothing," said Bill. "I'm doing this because Professor Dumbledore asked."

"He asked you to do work for a fugitive, he didn't say you had to do it for free. I'd accept that if I didn't have the money, but I do. Log your hours, and I'll pay you double the rate Gringotts does."

"I can't take accept double."

"If Dumbledore hadn't asked, you'd be demanding that and more. I don't see why I should take any more handouts than I have to." Sirius's eyes were fierce as they met those of the oldest Weasley brother, and Bill nodded.

"Double it is. It'll probably take between sixty and a hundred hours. Just because I have to remove the painting without damaging the wards."

Bill spoke only occasionally as he worked, pressing needles into the wall, deliberating at length over where exactly each one ought to be put and how far down each one ought to be pressed, and Harry wondered what he was supposed to be learning other than that working with wards could be exacting, time-consuming work.

Sirius popped back in to ask Bill if he'd had lunch, and Bill said, "I ate with Fleur," then seemed to regret it.

"Fleur?" said Bill. "Not that sexy young woman from the tournament?"

"She just started at Gringotts. Says she wants to improve her English. She doesn't know anyone, and we met at the tournament, before the third task, you remember, so we've been talking a little." He sounded defensive.

"Talking?" said Sirius, raising an eyebrow. "Just how far has your talkinggone."

"It's not like that. She's too young. It would be like dating Percy."

Harry could think of several interesting differences between Fleur Delacour and Percy Weasley. Sirius must've thought the same, because he roared with laughter.

Lupin wandered back in, sipping tea.

Sirius said, "I bet you've never had to drag your eyes away from Percy Weasley's inviting lips."

Bill said, "Every wizard at Gringotts turns into an annoying braggart around her. The fact that I don't have to drag my eyes from her lips is why we talk."

Lupin said, "As a cursebreaker, you've learned to defend against compulsions."

"There's a particular type of occlumency," said Bill.

Harry perked up. That was discussed in Mind's Mortar, but he'd been more concerned with occlumency to resist legilimency.

Lupin said, "But even without her allure, you've certainly noticed she's an exceptionally beautiful young woman. No, don't protest, it's obvious. Perhaps you're right that it would be boorish to act on that, or even show it. But William, has she not shown any signs of being interested in you?"

"Well..."

"No long looks. No bumping of hands? Not slipping her arm through yours?"

"She's too young."

"She's an adult, legally and socially. If you're physically attracted but you think she's a simpering eighteen-year-old, then yes, stay away. But if you're attracted emotionally and mentally, then you shouldn't let six years get in the way of what could be love."

"Six years and ten months," said Bill, without hesitation. "Maybe when she's a little older."

Lupin said, "She's not going to catch up."

"Proportionally she will, but look, it's not just age. I'm not her direct superior, we're in different departments, but I am higher ranked, and she's already got half the men in the bank making passes at her. Like I said. It's all based on that I don't woo her."

Sirius said, "I think young William may be on to something there. Fleur is used to men eating out of her hand. Keep playing hard to get."

"I'm not playing."

"Even better if it's authentic. But don't drag your feet too much. When she makes a pass at you, act like you're interested, but not overwhelmed, and like you think she's too young."

"That's what I already do." said Bill.

Sirius said, "See Moony, he knows what he's doing."

"I'm not-you're impossible."

Harry said, "Generally speaking, how does a wizard attract the attention of a witch?"

Three curious pairs of eyes turned to Harry, and the men hid smiles.

"Tell them you love them," said Sirius. "It's quick, you can approach twenty in an afternoon."

Lupin said, "Just be yourself."

"Ignore Moony," said Sirius, "He'd be a virgin if it weren't for me and James."

Lupin said, "James didn't have any success with Lily till he started acting like himself instead of following your damn playbook. And I'll have you know I've done alright myself this past decade, factoring in my condition."

Sirius snorted and imitated Lupin in a high-pitched voice. "Factoring in my condition."

Bill said, "Be yourself, but your best, most confident, self. Shyness and awkwardness can be endearing, but they're poor substitutes for being impressive. Plan what you'll say beforehand, not so it'll be manipulative, but so it will be eloquent. And be sure to dress sharp. Look into getting a leather jacket. You've got the scars to pull it off."

Sirius and Lupin looked at Bill, and Sirius said, "If you can be almost embarrassingly soulful like that, then end with a flash of humor, you're golden. The man being crushed on by a part-veela may be worth listening to."

Lupin asked if there was a particular girl he was interested in, which Sirius took as a perfect intro to tease Harry about whoever he had a crush on (for a fugitive, the man knew a shocking amount about his schoolmates) and even Lupin and Bill joined in a little on the ribbing.

Harry answered in grunts and shrugs, cheeks burning.

When Bill finally left, saying he expected to return with Lupin Monday night, Harry considered the embarrassment he'd suffered well worth it.

The most important thing he'd learned had nothing to do with wards.

:::

This story will not primarily be a romance, but, perhaps, secondarily a romance. Harry/Hermione is my standard jam, but I make no promises.

I expect that Harry will be at Hogwarts or on his way to it by the end of the next chapter.

I wrote a book. An original one. Sort of inspired by disliking Twilight/Atlas Shrugged, which, little-known-fact, are actually the same book. Monstrosity, by JLL, available on Amazon. Please, please, please review it.

I know canon Sirius hates being trapped in Grimmauld Place. This Sirius does too. But as much as he hated Grimmauld Place, he hated his uselessness in the face of Voldemort's return even more. This time, Voldemort hasn't returned and his godson and best friend are living with him, and clearing him is somewhere on the first page of Dumbledore's very long to-do list, so we see a much happier and more productive Sirius.

I am not quite sure when, canonically, Fleur started working at Gringotts, but it should've been sometime not too long after the end of book four, since, before Harry's sixth year starts, Bill and Fleur are already engaged, and Ron states they've known each other for a year. For this fic, I'm presuming she had the job offer lined up before leaving school.