"Master Lord Potter?"
Harry slipped awake with a small start, blinking away the fuzziness in his eyes and yawning quietly into his hand. He rubbed his fingers into his eye-sockets deeply to banish the sleep and focused on the creature beside his bed. He frowned, "Kreacher?" he asked.
Harry was surprised when Kreacher bent down at the waist and looked up at him with somewhat awed eyes, his slumped aged mouth hiking up at the corners to reveal a small number of pointed teeth in a shockingly warm-ish smile. "Kreacher is pleased to serve the noble and honorable Master Lord Potter," said Kreacher with an oily voice, glee and giddiness in his small blue-grey eyes that were much too used to glaring, sometimes at Harry himself. "Kreacher is being told Master Lord Potter is being requested in the kitchens by the mudblood and blood-traitors." he croaked, his face taking on a harsher edge when the horrible names were mentioned.
At first, Harry thought that this was a rather strange dream to be having. Kreacher, being nice? And to him of all people?
Discretely, Harry pinched the skin on his wrist, unwilling to admit that Kreacher was actually capable of smiling, and at him of all people! No such luck was given to him today, it seemed, as all the pinching to his wrist gave him naught but a small pain and bruise. Not wanting to be rude to the House-elf, whom was still smiling in awe at him -for the very first time, might he mention-, Harry smiled -though a little unsurely- and inclined his head in acknowledgement to the creature's bow.
"Uh, thank you Kreacher," said Harry, "I'll be sure to go down in a minute, and please call me Harry." he said, when he realized that this might be a one time opportunity to get Kreacher to become faithful.
It seemed to do the usually grumpy and evil-looking creature a world of good, as Kreacher's sunken in chest bloated with pride, and his face turned into a pleased smile that reminded Harry a lot of Dobby, only with less cheer and happiness and more with smugness and satisfaction. "Thank you Master Harry," said Kreacher thickly, bowing once again at the waist, though this time deep enough for his ears and pointed nose to touch the floor. "Kreacher is honored to serve Master Harry, the most honorable and noble of blood, much more than blood-traitor Sirius Black," he spat the name with acid, his face twisting into the dark scowl that it was always set in when he stood back up again.
In actual fact, Harry really had never seen Kreacher smile. There was no happiness or warmth in the elder House-elf's eyes whenever he looked upon his master, merely an insurmountable amount of scorn and hatred. He had to wonder if Sirius gave Kreacher his freedom, what he would do. Would he set fire to Sirius, or shoot a jet of green like Dobby did Lucius Malfoy in second year? Surely there were worse fates than that, but he didn't exactly want to ponder them. Except for one. Secrets, Kreacher could go to some unknown enemy and spill every secret Sirius or the Order has ever had.
There was no loyalty between Kreacher and Sirius, merely a Master and a slave bound by heritage and duty.
Kreacher was older than Sirius, he had generations of knowledge on horrible curses and spells on his side, especially having served in the House of Black for many generations. It would more than likely be best to treat Kreacher with kindness and respect, he'd more than earned it from them, serving many, many years for a rotten House like he has.
Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed and cleared his throat to gain Kreacher's attention when it wondered, "Kreacher, is there a bathroom anywhere near here?" he asked sheepishly, looking around the large room a little lost.
Naturally the room that he'd been put in was much in the same theme as the rest of the house; expensive and tasteful, however it was far darker than that of what Harry had seen so far. It looked more grander as well, more carvings in the wooden frames on the window and hearth than anywhere else. He noticed a few carvings were of smiling snakes, and had to silently curse the prankster he had for a Godfather. He'd get Sirius back for that small detail.
There was a very large and dark ornate wardrobe standing proudly beside the door, it seemed to swallow up half of the room with how big it was. It had a matching ornate dresser stationed across the room, almost as large in length ways and just as dark in the firelight, and a large silver ornate mirror resting upon it. There were a few cabinets on the walls as well, most were surrounding a large bookcase positively filled to the brimming with large tomes on what Harry would guess to be about the Dark Arts. He certainly couldn't wait to get a look at them.
There was also a comfortable looking rocking chair in front of the fire, obviously there for him if ever were he to be in a pondering mood to just sit and stoke the fire. Then he spotted a rather large collection of alcohol's in fine crystal bottles sitting pleasantly in one of the cabinets closest to the fire. It seemed that Sirius knew what he was doing when he designed the room for Harry.
"That is being through here," answered Kreacher croakily, limping past the large wardrobe and stopping to look back expectantly when he paused in front of another door, one that Harry hadn't noticed.
Harry stood from the bed with a low groan and stretched his muscles like a cat, his toes curling into the cold floor and his hands balling up into tense fists above his head. His back was so arched he was almost half lying on the bed again. "Thanks Kreacher," he said, a grateful smile curving his lips as he passed by the small elf.
Kreacher bowed once again, the look of awe growing steadily stronger as he stood back up, "Breakfast is being ready downstairs, Master Harry." he said, before promptly disappearing with a small pop that was significantly quieter than any other House-elf's.
It seemed that Harry was garnering unwanted attention from the least likeliest of creatures, first the Goblin's and now Kreacher, the most hateful and spiteful House-elf he'd ever had the pleasure to meet. It was more than likely due to his creature inheritance, and from what Ragnok had said about his heritage, a great deal more was to change for him.
With a sigh, Harry pushed through the door and stopped for only a moment to enjoy the look of the bathroom, before putting it to use. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, lathering them up with a soft strawberry soap that smelled quite delicious. He'd have to thank Sirius for putting that in here and wondered if the shampoo and conditioner would be the same scent. It was.
After stripping from yesterday's clothes, Harry released his hair of its binds and shook it free, enjoying the feeling of it tumbling -not quite so neatly this time, due to the many, many knots- around on his back. He smiled at himself in the large mirror, flicking his hair this way and that. He had to say, even with how tired and worn down he looked, he still managed to be ... attractive.
The pressure and warmth of the water was exquisite, hard enough to knead his muscles but soft enough not to give him a headache when he washed his hair under the spray. It seemed that the only bad thing about having long thick hair was the amount of shampoo, conditioner and time it took to wash it. His hands were a little numb by the time the conditioner in his hair was gone, but he didn't mind. His hair was silky smooth now, and ran like water in his hands when he pulled it all over his shoulder.
He let himself enjoy the jets of water pounding into his slightly sore back for a little while longer, rolling his shoulders every once in a while to regain feeling and test how loose they were.
He could see himself living here, living with Sirius and pranking each other like they'd planned before Harry had gone to live with the Dursley's. To be truthful to himself, he never really saw himself living with Remus at all, he would entertain the idea every once in a while, but it never really firmed itself in his mind. To him, Sirius was more a father, more a friend and more a brother than Remus. Remus was like a very close friend, but he wasn't quite yet a father figure in his mind. He'd almost set himself back to being merely Harry's fathers friend when he pulled that stunt with the Dursley's and the methods of contact.
The guilt he'd lain on Harry felt more like he was being covered in concrete mixture, weighing him down with shame to get him to go back to the Muggles. Harry didn't want someone who could easily guilt him into going to a place of torture and pain, especially like that. He didn't want someone who had that kind of power and control over him, and as they'd recently found out, any challenge issued between either of them was taken rather literally and dangerously. Their creature's were likely to be enemies, and Harry didn't want to accidentally kill Remus or for Remus to accidentally tear him apart.
Sure Sirius could be childish, but Harry didn't want himself to be stuck with someone who was more an adult and hardly ever indulged their inner child. He wanted fun in his life, someone who would freak out with him and cause a ruckus. He wanted to live with Sirius.
He wanted to live here with Sirius more than that mystery house with the Lupin's, and in fact, he'd seen only the four Lupin's in his mind when seeing their future.
Did that mean that he never lived with them?
After the glorious and pensive shower had finished, Harry had trekked into his room with a fluffy black towel draped around his waist. He'd went to rummage through his school trunk for clothes, when the already large wardrobe in the room seemed to become bigger and bigger, becoming more and more tempting with each passing second.
Surely Sirius wouldn't mind him going through the wardrobe for something to wear, would he? Well, if he did, Sirius wouldn't have put the wardrobe in there anyhow. And besides, who says that it's actually full of clothes? Harry glanced at the door warily, half expecting Sirius to suddenly burst in and attack him for even thinking of going near the wardrobe.
After a few moments of the door remaining undisturbed and Harry staring at it like an idiot, Harry shook himself and strode purposefully towards the large thing, admiring its beauty for only a short time before opening it up. Inside, looking like they were newly bought and begging to be worn, were clothes of the finest materials, all in dark colors and calling to him as if he'd hand-picked them himself.
"Oh, wow ..." he breathed, gently running his fingers over the fabrics in wonderment. Glancing down, he noticed the many pairs of refined shoes and boots that seemed to match some of the clothing above, there were even two pairs of the ridiculously expensive dragon hide boots that he'd seen in Diagon Alley! "Sirius, you have got to be joking ..." he whispered to himself, both touched and upset that Sirius spent so much money on him.
"Good morning Harry."
Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear, he thought satirically, calming his suddenly raging heart with a hand to his chest. Harry half-turned to face his smirking Godfather and gave him a tight smile, "Morning, Padfoot," he murmured. He smiled a little at the roll of eyes he received.
"Alright, what's got your panties in a bunch now?" asked Sirius half-exasperatedly and half-concerned, moving away from the doorway to close the door behind him for privacy and to sit on the edge of Harry's large bed. Sirius looked at him intently when he was settled and leaned back on his hands comfortably.
Harry snickered at the phrase and shook his head, "You've been around the twins too much, haven't you?" he accused merrily, seeing images of a grumpy Sirius surrounded by the two trickster's in his mind.
Sirius held his hands up with his own snicker and nodded, his grey eyes almost rolling out of his head, "Yeah, they can be quite ..." he trailed off a little, thinking for a word to describe the twins. And there were many to choose from, why, Harry had his own dictionary of words to describe the twins.
"Mischievous? Colorful? Rebellious?" offered Harry, only half-joking as he moved to sit next to Sirius on the bed, only remembering that the towel was the only thing that he's wearing at the last minute. He tightened it around his waist to keep it from falling.
Sirius didn't seem to mind that he was wearing only a towel in his company, or he didn't really notice. "Well, I was going to say influential, but I think that you're onto something there," he said, smirking at him slightly, before he seemed to remember the point of the conversation and the smirk drifted into a concern frown. "Now that that's been said, what's wrong?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice that made Harry's insides warm up, as he remembered what he was thinking in the shower not too long ago.
"Well, this room for one," he said, gesturing around him at the lavish interior. Harry rushed to clear up his mistake when Sirius began to look upset and hurt, "I don't mean that I don't like the room, I just mean that it's too much - not in the bad sense of course, I've just never been in a room as fancy and regal as this and it makes me feel like - I love it in here, but I just - I'm getting this out all wrong!" he moaned in despair, throwing his head into his hands and giving up.
Sirius remained quiet beside him for what felt like a millennium. At last, he spoke, "Harry, I think I know what you're trying to say," he said quietly, nudging Harry's shoulder to get him to look up. Harry did so, and felt slightly relieved when Sirius smiled in understanding, rather than the horrible expression Harry had been waiting to see, "I know, you're unused to comforts like this and find it shocking that I spent so much money on you. You feel guilty, that you don't deserve anything good in the world because of your past."
When Harry opened his mouth to speak, Sirius held his hand up, "Harry, I know what you're like, I know that you believe that you're not worthy of the finer things in life and have absolutely nothing to offer, that you're merely damaged good designed to be used and then tossed aside. Well guess what? You do deserve the finer things in life, you deserve so much more than any one I know, royal or no. You've sacrificed and lost so much in your young life, so much that should never have been taken from you in any situation. I want to give you as much of what you've lost back to you, not because I think you're some charity case that needs help, but because I think of you as my son, my best friend, and one hell of a kid." he said thickly, his dark grey eyes glimmering with tears.
By now Harry was crying freely, his own tears pooling over and trailing down his cheeks. His throat had closed up long ago and he'd long since given up trying to speak, but he tried again anyway, "I l- love you, Padfoot." he whispered brokenly, his voice stolen by emotion. How long had it been since he was told that he was wanted? That he was wanted as something other than a weapon or something to be used and then thrown away? How long had he been led to believe that he was alone in absolutely everything? How long had he himself believed that his purpose was done, that he had no one and nothing to comfort him, to love him, to care for him? How long had he believed himself alone and unwanted? A sob ripped its way out of throat and he bowed his head to hide his emotion.
Too long. Far too long.
Strong arms wrapped around him then, dragging him to lay his head onto a chest that was heaving as much as his was with emotion. Lips pressed firmly onto the top of his head. "I love you too Harry." whispered Sirius, carding his hands protectively through Harry's hair as he himself let out sobs.
They stayed like that for awhile, the both of them too caught up in emotion to realize that they'd be missed at the kitchen table. Harry knew that he was in the same boat with Sirius, Sirius had lost just as much and more as him, and the more Harry thought about it, the more became clear. Harry was part of the small makeshift family that Sirius had left. Harry's back and shoulders had been hurting and aching from the position they'd been in for five minutes now, but he didn't care, he'd suffered far worse than a cramped back, and Sirius needed him just as much as he needed Sirius.
"Harry," Sirius pulled back gently, sniffling and wiping away the tears still climbing down his cheeks, and eased Harry away from him so he could look into his Godson's face. "I wanted to speak with you before all this happened, about where you're going to live." he said softly. Harry noticed that Sirius looked quite odd without the small beard he'd been sporting back when Harry had last seen him, but didn't want to spoil the moment by saying so.
Harry nodded slowly, a small relieved smile forming on his lips, "I wanted to talk to you about that as well." he admitted.
Sirius grinned, happiness soon filling up the dark grey eyes that had just been crying a moment before. "Then that makes this easier then," he said, the gruffness Harry had grown accustomed to hearing from Sirius returning and the grin still on his face as he moved further onto the bed to get comfortable. "I just wanted to know, when you said that you saw Moony and Tonks living in a house -"
"I wasn't there," said Harry immediately, the small smile growing on his face. Sirius really did have a habit of skirting the point he was trying to make.
Sirius looked taken aback for a moment, before he shook his head and snorted, "I should've known better than to beat around the bush, he's a lot like James," he muttered to himself in amusement, he seemed to shake himself from his thoughts when Harry adjusted the towel more firmly around himself. "Perhaps I should let you get dressed first." he said then, shaking his head and snorting to himself.
"Would you be offended if I didn't wear those clothes?" asked Harry in a small voice, the smile turning into a worried frown almost immediately.
Sirius scoffed and shook his head. "Of course not, Harry!" he said, looking at Harry as if he was being silly, but it wasn't long before a mischievous grin settled across his face. Harry shifted, feeling disconcerted by the way Sirius looked at him. Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously when Sirius slipped off of the bed and walked swiftly to the door. "But I do think that it might be next to impossible for you to wear anything other than the clothes I bought you, it seems that the clothes in your trunk got a bit hot." he said vaguely.
Harry's jaw dropped, "You burnt my clothes?!" he screeched. There were at least three pairs of pants that he loved in that pile!
Sirius glanced back at him and smirked, inclining his head. "Well I couldn't exactly keep a hold of the slippery trunk and I didn't realize that my wand was blowing a few sparks ..." he trailed off teasingly, before ducking out of the door in roll as Harry had just launched what appeared to be a lamp.
Sirius' laughter was all Harry could hear fading in the distance as he stormed to his school trunk and yanked it open. Indeed, the only things that he had left were old school books, new and old pieces of parchment, quills and ink and the few Weasley jumpers that he'd been given by Molly Weasley for every Christmas since first year. His invisibility cloak and Marauder's map was hidden at the bottom of the pile.
"DAMN YOU, SIRIUS!" He bellowed, slamming his trunk louder than he'd ever done before.
A distant peel of laughter could be heard downstairs.
"Morning sleeping beauty!" teased George in greeting from the kitchen table, smiling too cheerily for someone as tricky and mischievous as himself. Fred waved energetically and gave Harry the same smile that was mirrored on his twins face.
Harry hesitated only slightly, before giving them a small smile and nodding to each of them, "Morning George, Fred." he said. He glared at Sirius from across the table as he passed by Ron and Hermione and fought the urge to flip the man off when he merely grinned toothily back.
If he wasn't so comfortable in the Muggle black skinny jeans and V-neck t-shirt, he would've already attempted to tear Sirius' hair out with his teeth. As it was, Harry had to admit that he looked quite attractive in the Muggle clothes, he wondered yet again, how Sirius knew his sizes and style. He glanced at the Potter ring from the corner of his eye when he seated himself beside Ginny. Maybe the clothes had a charm on them to fit him no matter what size he was?
"Morning Harry," greeted Ginny softly, turning slightly in her seat to face him. "it certainly did take you a long time to get down here, did you attempt to drown yourself in the shower or something?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
Harry smiled softly back at her and ducked his head slightly when Molly Weasley bustled around to his side to fill his plate up, "Or something," he said to her, before turning to Molly happily, "thanks Mrs Weasley, I'm absolutely starving."
"You're welcome Harry, every growing boy needs food! There's plenty more on the cooker if you're still hungry after you eat this!" she said, smiling down at him encouragingly.
Harry grinned and turned back to his food to dig in, only to find a hand dragging away one of his sausages. He smacked the back of the hand and snatched his sausage back from the thieving fingers, "Oi! Get your own!" he said half-jokingly to the hand, watching as it recoiled and returned to its owner. Who else would it be, but Ron Weasley?
Ron pouted childishly at him and rubbed his slightly red hand. "No need to slap Harry, I just wanted another sausage." he said.
"Then go and grab someone else's! I'm positively starved!" He said, dropping the sausage onto his plate and quickly diving back in to slice and separate it systematically, dipping it in the dribbling egg yolk.
He missed the fascinated looks on his adopted family's faces and continued to work in an efficient manner, slicing the sausages easily as if he was slicing a hot knife through butter and dipping the pieces in the egg yolk. Only when he finished his first plate did he take a swig of pumpkin juice.
"How the hell did you finish all that in ten minutes?!" asked Ginny in shock, eyeing the way Harry dabbed at the nonexistent grease at the corners of his lips.
Harry hid a burp behind his hand and grinned at the shocked expressions around him, "Well I am hungry .." he said pointedly.
Molly jumped into gear then, sliding even more sausages and eggs onto his plate. She looked down at him lovingly when he smiled gratefully up at him. "Good boy, Harry dear, you keep on eating and ignore them all." she said encouragingly, topping up his pumpkin juice.
When Ron's hand reappeared to attempt another sausage snatch, Harry permitted him to take it, pretending to be interested in drinking more pumpkin juice.
"Hungry, Harry?" asked Bill in amusement, a smirk gathering on his lips.
Harry grinned proudly and gave his stomach a sound pat, "I reckon that I've still got some space to fill." he said, already beginning to slice his food and repeat the process of eating again.
"I don't know where you're putting all of that, but I can't wait to see if your thighs and arse swell from all this food by tonight," said Ginny, making a point to watch his legs as if they were about to do so at that moment.
"Ginny!" snapped Molly Weasley, shocked. "Language, young lady! I didn't raise you to swear like some rude witch with a 'b'!"
"Sorry mum," said Ginny, hiding her giggles by sipping at her own pumpkin juice.
"Yeah Ginny," snickered Ron.
"Don't you think I haven't forgotten about you, Ronald Weasley!" snapped Molly, turning on her youngest son with her finger pointed accusingly.
"Me?! What did I do?!" asked Ron, shocked and flabbergasted at the turn of events. Harry leaned back in his seat and watched the family spit with amusement that was badly concealed. A glance at Sirius and the other brothers almost made him break out into laughter. Almost.
"I heard you swearing at the top of your lungs last night in your room, young man! I promise you that if I hear so much as a single cuss word come from your mouth, I will ground you until the day you move out!" said Molly Weasley, waving a spatula threateningly at her youngest son. Ron was paler than Harry had ever seen him, considering he'd seen Ron puke out a few buckets worth of slugs. Ron nodded shakily and seemed to press into Hermione's side, who was surprisingly blushing a little.
Fred and George were laughing to their hearts content, absolutely cracking up at their second youngest brother. Bill, Charlie and Ginny were laughing as well, only less hysterically than the twins near them. But only just. Harry himself was laughing at Ron's misfortune, but he only found the situation hilarious because Ron had most likely been with Hermione when he'd been screaming. Harry would bet his left hand that Ron was extremely grateful that Molly hadn't gone into the room when he'd been screaming, otherwise the situation would be far different.
It seemed Sirius had also come to the same conclusion as well, because as soon as Harry and he locked eyes, the both of them broke down into peels of laughter, only stopping to glance every so often at a furiously blushing Hermione and a red hot Ron who looked like he had all of the blood in his body all collected in his face and neck.
Molly was standing at the head of the table beside Sirius and Arthur, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed in disapproval and confusion at the sight of her sons and school friend laughing at her.
"I do believe they're laughing at Ron and Hermione, dear." said Arthur Weasley to his wife, his smile sweet and assuring as he looked up at her adoringly.
Molly frowned but nodded and gave her husband a swift kiss to his cheek, rubbing her hand up and down his arm gently. "Are you going to the Ministry today?" she asked quietly, her bright brown eyes surveying her children carefully.
"Yes," answered Arthur, just as quietly. "I have to speak to Minister Fudge on the wanted Death Eater's, it seems that they've all become reckless in their killing and have been spotted in multiple locations, each getting closer and closer to Hogsmeade. The Obliviator's at the office have been hard pressed to work their magic on quite a number of unsuspecting Muggles."
Molly hid her gasp behind her hand and closed her eyes to try and relieve the stress knotting at her temples. "Those poor people," she whispered, her eyes still closed, before they popped open and she looked down at Arthur tensely. "Harry is not to know Arthur, he cannot be told -"
"I'm afraid he has to be, Molly," said Arthur sadly, grasping at his wife's hand to bring her in closer so that she wouldn't force him to say this any louder and alert the others to their conversation. "I believe, as well as Minister Fudge, that Harry should know the truth of what is happening far more than anyone else, he has the most power behind him to put a stop to all of this madness. If anyone should know, it ought to be Harry." he said gently, but firmly.
"Harry is too young to handle all of this, he'll crack under the pressure of yet another target - he's not a weapon, Arthur," pleaded Molly, sinking down to her knees and casting a surreptitious glance at the others at the table to see if anyone realized yet what they were talking about. Thankfully, they hadn't. "Please don't say anything to him, go to Fudge and talk to him about the possibilities of getting more Auror's on duty -"
"Molly, if Minister Fudge pushed more Auror's onto the streets, everyone would know what was happening and begin to panic, they would think that He's back and will riot. I don't think that our world can take much more panic and hysteria," said Arthur gently, softly pleading with his wife to understand. He himself didn't like the fact that the fate of the world was resting in his adopted son's hands, he wished that someone else, someone much older would carry the burden instead of Harry, anyone instead of Harry.
Molly let out a shuddering breath and kissed her husband softly, resting her forehead against his. "I don't like this Arthur," she whispered painfully. "I don't like how even the Minister is turning to a young boy to settle his own debts, it's not right. If they keep turning to Harry like this at each and every step of his life, they'll eventually wear him down and he'll break. He's been so stro-ng for so long, Arthur, but I believe that this will be his downfa-ll." she whispered brokenly, her voice crackling with emotion.
"I know Molly, I know." agreed Arthur, almost silent in his pain. He held onto his wife as she began to shake as silently and still as possible, he knew that it was only for the benefit of the children, they'd panic if they saw their mother crying, and the topics surrounding Harry's life always brought Molly to her knees in her tears and sadness for the boy.
"Well," said Molly with a small sniffle, pulling herself from Arthur's shoulder. "I suppose you should be going then, it's getting rather late for a visit with the Minister." she said.
Arthur gave a small chuckle and nodded. "Yes, I suppose so." he said, standing from his seat and gesturing for Molly to sit. "Farewell Weasley's, Lupin's, Black, Granger and Potter!" he called, waving his hand.
A mixture of farewells rang back, and then Arthur Weasley was gone.
Harry stood from his place at the table as well, "I'm going to my room everyone, so if anybody needs me, you know where I am," he said, hiding a yawn behind his hand and blowing Molly a kiss as she bustled around to grab his dirty crockery. Molly smiled fondly and shook her head as if to say, 'Oh, you!'
"We'll come and join you." said Hermione, standing swiftly from her seat and pushing it back in before Ron could object. Not that he would, he's very much missed his best friend, mind you.
Harry shrugged and began to lead the way, unaware that he was going to be suffering through what would feel like an interrogation in under fifteen minutes.
But Ron knew, and he sent a small wide eyed look Harry's way before Hermione could catch him. It was just Harry's luck that he was looking the wrong way.
"So, what happened yesterday at Gringott's, Harry?" asked Hermione casually, eyeing her silent friend warily and at least attempting to moderate her tone. She knew what would happen if she stepped over some invisible boundary.
Harry stoked the fire with an iron poker and began rocking slowly in his new favorite chair, "I accepted the Potter ring and responsibilities of being Head of House and asked a few questions, nothing more exciting than that." he sighed out, almost getting lost in the warmth of the fire and homey feeling of the room.
Ron gazed apologetically at his best mate from his place on Harry's bed, his legs crossed comfortably and leaning back on his forearms. He couldn't imagine being the Head of a House that was all but empty, and just imagining the responsibilities Harry will have to put up with ..? He shuddered lightly. Dinner parties, social gatherings and polite chit chat with all the other Heads of Houses. That included the Malfoy's. He shuddered again. Poor Harry will have to deal with the lot of them, all crawling up his arse because he defeated Voldemort and has a higher standing in life.
"Harry, what really happened yesterday at Gringott's?" asked Hermione quietly. Ron glanced at his girlfriend warily, not knowing how far she was willing to take questioning Harry to and wondering if she'd actually try and supportive. She was currently standing in front of the large bookshelf, her hands brushing the spines of the large tomes wistfully and almost hungrily.
"I hope you asked about your creature inheritance, we can't help you if we don't know what you are," she said, her tone coming out softer than usual and taking the usual force from her words. Ron relaxed slightly, relieved that Hermione was really taking what they'd talked about last night to heart.
Harry frowned to himself, wondering if she was trying a new tactic to try and wheedle the information out of him, "Of course I asked, 'Mione, it was one of the first questions I asked him." he said, the frown growing on his face.
"Can we know what you are then? I've been going crazy trying to think of the possible creature's you could be, but all I've come up with are either illogical or have no shared characteristic's with you at all. It's okay if you don't tell us, I won't force you -" she stopped herself from rambling by biting on her tongue, and turned from the bookcase to watch her best friend mull over what she'd said, cautiously.
"I want to tell you guys what I am, but you have to keep in mind that this is all new to me as well, I understand my inheritance just as much as you do," he said, glancing at Hermione and Ron, "I need to write down all of my changes and send it to the Ministry, so maybe you could write it all down Hermione? Seeing as you have the neatest writing."
Ron somehow looked taken aback and outraged at the same time, it made an odd expression on his face, "Why does the bloody Ministry need to know what you look like? Isn't that invasion of privacy or something?" he asked, dumbstruck. He also looked slightly pleased. Harry reckoned that it was because it was the first time Ron had ever said 'invasion' and 'privacy' in the same sentence.
Hermione sighed impatiently, and narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend and Harry was reminded of the conversation he'd had with Ginny the first night here, about the two in front of him fighting like cat's and dogs. "Honestly Ronald, don't you ever read? According to 'A Wizard's Creature Inheritance', any witch or wizard who inherits the creature blood of their family have to immediately report their changes to the Ministry, the Ministry will then tell them what restrictions apply to them and catalog them as a creature for future reference." she said factually. Harry knew that that was the very condensed version of what she really wanted to say, and decided not to speak lest she actually lecture them both about it.
Ron's mouth dropped into a small 'o' and he nodded, "Oh! So it's like the Animagi and werewolves! That's bad luck mate, I would've liked to surprise everyone." he said to Harry, his face sympathetic.
Hermione went to pinch her nose in a very Snape-like manner, but stopped herself and shook her head instead, "Kind of, Ronald. With Animagi, no one really knows that they're actually training to be one until they inform the Ministry of what animal they are, a great example of this would be Padfoot, Prongs and .." she paused, risking a glance at Harry, before clearing her throat and continuing. "The Ministry know that Harry has changed, so he has no choice but to send in his changes and report in what creature he is. Much like a werewolf, only they can still hide what they are and can choose to report in what they are if they wish to." she finished, briskly moving to sit on the bed beside Ron, where she cuddled into his side.
"Still, I reckon it's bad luck," said Ron, resting his cheek on the top of Hermione's head and sliding an arms around her shoulders. "I wouldn't want to tell everybody what I am, specially because the slimy toads would know my every weakness." he said, kissing her forehead. Hermione remained silent in his arms, just cuddling him and watching Harry rock in the firelight. She'd had her small rant, and was content to now sit back and watch, until Harry was ready for her to begin writing.
"I don't think that that's possible," said Harry into the comfortable silence, glancing at Ron with a smirk. Ron's eyebrows just up in surprise but Hermione merely smiled as if to say 'Go on'. The smirk on Harry's face soon turned sheepish, "as it turns out, I'm something that hasn't been seen or heard of for over thousands of years, there's barely any mention of my culture in even the oldest of history books. I'm distantly related to the Unseelie, I think."
Hermione's eyes widened and she sat up properly, much to the disappointment of Ron, and conjured a parchment and quill with the quill already inked. "Alright, I'm ready. What are you?" she asked eagerly, her quill poised to write. She rolled her eyes when Ron groaned in disappointment beside him.
"There's many names for what I am," said Harry, watching Hermione's eyes bulge in excitement with a small wince that wasn't noticed, "the latest, which were given over a thousand years ago, were Florenthia, Amnestria, Nelloren, and Valerian ... there're others but I can't think of them off the top of my head," he said, smiling sheepishly.
Hermione hurriedly scrawled the names down, stopping only to glare at Ron when it looked like he was about to ruin all of her hard work by moving on the bed. He held his hands up in surrender and stayed as still as possible, looking between the side of Hermione's head to Harry with wide eyes. "What the hell?" he mouthed to Harry, gesturing to his girlfriend.
Harry shrugged his shoulders helplessly at his best friend, "I don't know," he mouthed back. And he didn't, well, not really anyway. Hermione was liable to take absolutely everything as a challenge, and the fact that he was an unknown creature that had passed out of existence over an extensive amount of time was more than a treat and challenge for her.
"Right," said Hermione suddenly, biting her lip and leaning back from her parchment. "Well, I can't say that I recognize any of those names, I've never come across any of them even in the Hogwarts library. What do you want to go by when we send this in?" she asked Harry, poising her quill over the parchment again and looking at him expectantly.
"I think I'll go by Valerian," he replied thoughtfully, pulling the long waterfall of hair over his shoulder and playing with the thick inky black tendrils of hair.
"It's so weird seeing you with long hair, mate," said Ron, watching his friend stroke his hair. He choked on a gasp of air when a small but very hard elbow jerked into his ribs, "A good weird!" he corrected, wincing and rubbing at the sore spot on his ribs sulkily.
Harry chuckled at Hermione's reprimanding stare and grinned at Ron's sulky frown, "I know, sometimes I can hardly believe that it's actually mine as well, but I'll get used to it eventually."
Hermione didn't so much as glance at him as she was still too busy writing on the parchment, "Why don't you cut it?" she asked absently.
"I've already tried, I get a horrible reaction, my nose starts to bleed, I start vomiting and I lose feeling in my legs," answered Harry just as absently, remembering that horrible time in the bathroom at the Dursley's with a shudder. He'd never do that again, not for as long as he lives.
"Has anyone else tried to cut it?" she asked, still scratching at the parchment, but casting him worried glances every so often.
"No, why?" he asked warily. If she's suggesting what I think she's suggesting ... he thought. There was no way, come Hell or high tides, that Hermione was going anywhere near his hair with a pair of scissors. She could get stuffed, he reckoned.
"I was just thinking that maybe your hair has a defense mechanism, seeing as you immediately fell ill when you cut it. I think that maybe, if someone else tried to cut it or stab you in the back, your hair would stop it." she mused, putting down her quill distractedly, her face pensive.
"You better finish writing that letter, or else I won't let you come anywhere near my hair," Harry threatened, half serious. Hermione rolled her eyes but picked the quill back up and began to scratch at the parchment again, glancing up at Harry and looking as if she was mentally comparing his old figure to his new one. He wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing, he was too busy thinking about the possibilities that his hair could provide.
Although he didn't like the idea of Hermione or someone else cutting his hair, Harry did have to admit that the theory had merit, and maybe some day in the future, it might save his life. Harry slid from the seat and walked into the connecting bathroom, searching through the drawers for a pair of scissors he knew Padfoot would have put in here, seeing as he liked the idea of Harry having absolutely everything he could have possibly wanted. All too soon, he was holding a -yet another expensive thing- pair of scissors.
"Alright," he said, sticking his head out of the bathroom to see his friends, "I don't wanna mess my room up with blood, so we'll do it in here."
Hermione nodded and jumped off of the bed, leaving behind a pale Ron. She glanced back at him and opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to find it unnecessary and waved him off, ignoring him as she trekked to the bathroom. Ron looked thankful for it, as he immediately went limp against the bed covers and closed his eyes. He looked a little sick, to Harry.
"You alright, Ron?" he called, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom and watching his best mate carefully for signs of throwing up.
Ron lifted a hand shakily and waved him off, remaining silent for fear of vomiting. Harry winced sympathetically, his heart going out to his best mate. "You just stay there, okay mate? Just relax and breathe, ay?" he said, slipping back into the bathroom before Ron answered. If he could have, anyway.
Hermione was lifting the lid of the toilet when he looked for her, and quickly joined her, anxious to get this over with. He bit his bottom lip when Hermione held her hand out for the scissors.
"Come on," she said excitedly, hardly caring that this would most likely emotionally scar Harry for life. "give me the scissors and get on your knees."
Harry almost laughed, but complied anyway and knelt in front of the toilet bowl, his head angled towards it. He felt her small hands gather all of his hair at the back of his head and winced when he heard the small snip, snip, snip of the scissors. He knew that Hermione was teasing him, and he most certainly didn't appreciate it.
"Are cutting or not?" he asked impatiently, feeling nothing but her hands tightening on his hair.
"I am!" panted Hermione, grunting.
Harry let out a small hiss of pain when his head was suddenly jerked back. There was a loud thump and his hair was let loose, for which he was grateful for. He turned around with a small glare and opened his mouth to give Hermione a tongue lashing, when he noticed that she was sitting in a hunch on the ground and panting. He blinked at the once expensive and intact scissors, "My hair did that?" he asked blankly.
Hermione got enough air back in her lungs to giggle, "Couldn't you feel it trying to cut your hair off?" she asked.
"No, all I felt was a tiny hand yanking and squeezing," he said pointedly, giving her a small forced glare that only got the reply of more giggles.
"Everything alright in there?" came a muffled voice at the door. "No blood or vomit?"
"No, Ronald, everything's fine!" Hermione replied, the smile on her face widening on her face until it became an unnatural smirk that boded no good for Harry. "We just broke the scissor's!"
The door burst open.
It was almost eleven o'clock in the evening, and Harry was still in the kitchen sipping on his pumpkin juice. Lunch after the whole 'hair' incident had been amazing and dinner had been even better, with Arthur regaling them all with a funny story about some poor Obliviator accidentally Obliviating himself in a Muggle town.
Mrs Weasley had been so cheery then, she seemed to hang around Harry the most out of her children, always petting him and pecking his head with loving kisses. He'd been accepting of it then, but now he was pondering over the reasons as to why she had done it.
"Can't sleep?" asked a sympathetic voice.
"Not really," answered Harry, turning to give a small smile at the newcomer, which turned out to be three. "I can't get what happened at dinner out of my mind." he said to the three, getting up to grab them tea.
"Arthur's story?" asked Remus, slightly confused but thankful as Harry set down a tea cup in front of him and set to boiling the kettle.
"No, I was just wondering why Mrs Weasley was paying me the most attention," he said, biting his bottom lip. Harry took the kettle off of the cooker before it could start whistling too loudly and set to pouring, "it just seemed odd."
Sirius nodded faintly and prepared his tea, glancing at Tonks and Remus every few moments. Harry pretended not to notice and carried on sipping at his pumpkin juice, but the more he ignored the looks, the more tense the atmosphere became. He set his cup down with a sigh, "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean -" began Remus softly, setting his tea cup down and reaching for his wife's hand.
Harry frowned deeply at him, his gaze turning heavy on the aged werewolf, "Don't lie to me, I know something's going on. I could feel it back at the Dursley's and I can feel it now. It's about the escaped Death Eater's, isn't it?" he asked, looking them all in the eye.
Sirius was the first to nod, but the last to smile. "Bad things have been going on while you've been at your aunt's, Harry, the remaining Death Eater's are on the move and have been killing at will, the Obliviator's have been hard pressed to get to the Muggle witnesses on time, but few have been able to get away. Each sighting of the Death Eater's are getting closer and closer to Hogsmeade, where a few of the residents have been complaining of howling." he said quietly.
"Greyback's army is still at large?" asked Harry in shock, "But I thought the Auror's had been capturing them -"
"The Minister has every available Auror scouting the streets, watching and waiting to see if a Death Eater will show up." said Tonks, her voice heavy with disdain. "If I hadn't been pregnant, I'd have been forced to be out there too. Lucky for us that Dumbledore's been talking to Fudge."
"But he hasn't been getting through to him," said Remus, voice soft but disgusted. "Fudge is a foolish man who will get us all killed, even if Voldemort is gone, Bellatrix and Fenrir are out there and doing his work for him."
"But what about the other werewolves? Umbridge?" asked Harry quietly, observing the way Remus tensed slightly, as if he'd been caught.
"What about them?" asked Tonks, confused at why her husband was tensing all of a sudden.
"Although Umbridge should have been thrown and locked up in Azkaban with the worst of them, Fudge has allowed her to stay at his side as his adviser. He doesn't believe that she actually punished you with that Black Quill." sneered Sirius, clenching his hands into fists.
Harry looked down at the back of his right hand, tracing the words written there with his eyes. I must not tell lies. "Fudge doesn't believe in anything other than ignorance," he said tightly, his right hand curling up into a fist, "he's going to get us all killed with the way he's acting, what was he thinking allowing that woman to -" he cut himself off, the air feeling tight in his lungs.
"Harry?" asked Sirius. "Harry, are you alright?"
Harry blinked and focused on Remus, who became suddenly shifty, "She's convincing Fudge that every werewolf is one of Greyback's, that they're all evil," he said, his tone flat.
Remus inclined his head. "Yes," he said quietly, "Albus has been hard pressed to convince him that I at least, am firmly on the side of the light."
"But it's not working, is it?" asked Harry tensely, knots of stress beginning to form in his temples.
Remus shook his head faintly, "Delores remains firm in her belief that all creatures are below even that of the Muggleborn population, and Fudge had taken to adopting her way of thinking."
"So they're just going to run us all into the ground?" asked Harry in disgust, his thoughts tossing and turning at their highest speed, trying to figure out a way to solve this problem. He couldn't just let this one go by without at least attempting to help, not when Remus' safety was hanging on the line. But then, Remus would remain safe, nothing like this happens in Remus' future.
"This is where you come in, Harry," said Sirius gruffly, his deep voice bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "Fudge believes that you can handle all of this as easily as you did when battling Voldemort."
Harry gaped at Sirius then, "How the hell does he figure that?! I bloody died and came back to life when I dueled Tom! I can't just waltz into a Death Eater's lair or wherever the bloody idiots are and expect them to do anything the way Voldemort did! As soon as they see my face they're all going to attack and kill me, Tom wanted to at least wait and make me listen to my parents death before killing me. If he's crazy enough to think that I can kill again then he's crazier than I thought he was, he can go get fuc -!"
"Harry," interrupted Remus calmly, reaching across the table to grab Harry's hand soothingly. "I don't think that he'll make you sacrifice yourself over a couple of Death Eater's, you've sacrificed too much already. I believe that this job is better reserved for someone with -"
"More experience?" interrupted Harry, his face taking on a harsher edge when Remus looked away from him, "Remus, I hardly think that there is anyone else out there that has more experience with this than myself, aside from you few who've killed and battled other well known Death Eater's."
"Harry, I just want you safe and whole, killing isn't the sort of lifestyle that Lily and James wanted for you to have." Remus said quietly, pleading with Harry with his eyes to understand.
"Neither of us want you to have to kill again," added Sirius, watching his Godson sadly.
"Well I'm not gonna have a choice, now am I?" Harry asked rhetorically, pulling his hand from Remus' so he could drop his head into the both of them. He didn't want to kill again, he'd already done his fair share. Flashes of dismembered werewolves and screaming Death Eater's filled his mind, and he fought fiercely to remove the images.
"Pup, I think it's time we had that talk from earlier." said Sirius, his deep voice helping Harry to ground himself in his mind. Harry smiled wearily up at Sirius and nodded faintly, allowing his head to rest on the cool table.
"Perhaps we should get to bed, it has been a long day." suggested Remus to Tonks quietly, moving to stand.
"No, this concerns the both of you as well." said Sirius, not unkindly.
Aside from a suspicious glance thrown his way by the two Lupin's, Sirius managed a smile, "Now then, Remus have you had any luck in finding that house Harry told you about?" he asked.
Remus frowned and shook his head, his face showing his disappointment, "No such luck yet, Padfoot. Why do you ask?" he asked, beginning to sound as suspicious as he looks.
A familiar thought niggled at the back of Harry's mind, wriggling and dancing around his efforts to discover what it was. When it hit him. Of course! "Remus, I think I know who's family the crest belongs to," he said, excited that he finally knew what had been eluding him for what felt like ages.
Hope spread across Remus and Tonks' faces and Remus leaned forward, "You do? Who?" he breathed excitedly. Harry watched as Remus and Tonks grabbed at each others hands.
"Mine!" said Harry, and he enjoyed the identical looks of shock and joy that spread across Remus and Tonks' faces, "I have the keys to it, we just need to find it and the house." he said happily, and then his face fell when he realized what he just said, and just how many houses and keys there were. This was not going to be easy.
However, the same realization hadn't come to Remus or Tonks, as they were both still yipping their joy and happiness, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Though Remus was still being careful not to squeeze around Tonks' middle.
Sirius caught Harry's gaze and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, "Do you think you could go an find me a stick, Harry? We need to pry these two apart before they break something." he said.
Harry laughed, "You just wait, someday when you're doing the same thing with your wife, Remus and Tonks are going to be doing the exact same thing that you're doing!"
"So what did you want to talk about before?" asked Remus, finally pulling away from his wife and mate far enough to turn to the two sitting across from them.
Sirius inclined his head towards Harry, "When Harry saw your future at that house, Remus, he didn't say much about himself, did he?"
Remus looked at Harry then, his eyes narrowing in confusion, "No, I suppose he didn't. But that could have been because he didn't want to give too much away."
Harry bit his bottom lip -something he found himself doing a lot lately-, "It's because I wasn't there." he said quietly.
Remus looked taken aback, "Of course you were, you saw us didn't you?"
Harry inclined his head, "Well yes, but I wasn't there, I saw you all from a distance."
"I don't understand," said Tonks quietly, her eyes flicking back and forth between Harry, Sirius and Remus, before settling on Harry, "are you saying that you stay here? With Sirius?" she asked.
Harry again inclined his head, "I chose to live here, and I understand why too. I didn't want to disrupt your family life, I didn't to burden you all with having to see me, a relic of a past that should be best forgotten. So I stayed here with Sirius, and we ended up being a close-knit family." he said softly, smiling up at Sirius when his shoulder was nudged.
Remus looked devastated, but understanding all the same, "I hope you know that you're not a relic, or a burden, Harry. You're one of the strongest people I know and you deserve so much goodness and love in your life, I can't even begin to tell you .." he trailed off, tears beginning to appear in his eyes.
"Don't - don't cry, Remus," Harry whispered, his hand reaching across the table to clutch at Remus' calloused and scarred one, "you shouldn't cry on such a happy occasion." he said softly.
"Besides," he said then, brightening up slightly and beginning to grin, "we still have to find the key to your house tomorrow!" The key that's hidden with hundreds of other keys that all probably look the same, he thought despairingly. However large and bright the grin was on his face, the feeling of despair was heavy in his stomach and the beginning throbs of a headache were already starting in his temples.
Harry planned to do many things tomorrow, it seemed, and brewing headache potions was definitely one of them.
Many, many headache potions.